


Stolen Sorrow, Recovered Hearts

by Aussi18



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Dark Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Dark Robin Hood, Dubious Morality, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Evil Queen | Regina Mills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 02:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: Dark OQ - AU Enchanted Forest with multiple liberties taken.The Evil Queen's heart has gone missing, and she will stop at nothing to get it back.  In order to reclaim her heart, Regina must battle her inner demons and put the past behind her, or risk learning the lesson that Cora has always tried to teach her - that love is weakness.





	1. Stolen Sorrow, Recovered Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and all chapters will be posted as quickly as possible - I will not leave you hanging.
> 
> Dark OQ; AU Enchanted Forest where I kept what I liked and changed what I didn't. There was no First Curse. No mention of the Dark One. No Storybrook.
> 
> There’s some pretty sensitive material here - I’ll try to trigger warn at the top of the chapter but obvi can’t account for everyone’s triggers, and I don't want to give away too much of the story through trigger warnings, so please remember that you have been warned, and it is definitely not my intention to upset anyone with the content.
> 
> Robin has a filthy mouth and he’s going to do sexy, dirty things to Regina (all of which she will like) - the smut in this story is more... kink/rough/intense... than any of my other stories, so if that's not your thing, turn back now. 
> 
> A few lines of dialogue or pieces of scenes may be familiar (e.g. similar to the script). I do not pretend to own those or take any credit for them, I just liked the way they fit. I make no money on this, it's all purely for fun. Please don't sue me.


	2. The Theft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - Violence

 

Chapter One - The Theft 

 

The purple smoke clears quickly as Regina strides confidently through the castle gates, the diamonds on her low cut navy blue dress catching the afternoon sunlight, sparkling vibrantly and accentuating curves that certainly need no emphasis. She likes to teleport here, likes to make a show of returning - it keeps her guardsmen on their toes and is extraordinarily satisfying to watch them fall quickly to one knee in perfect, respectful bows as she passes them by.

She’s had quite a nice visit with Maleficent, and her spirits are high, her mood uncharacteristically good as she works her way into the castle, intent on grabbing a bite to eat and receiving any new information her spies have gleaned in her short absence. She doesn’t leave the castle often, is typically too busy being a monarch and hunting down Snow White, but the reprieve is appreciated, especially with her oldest friend - someone who shares the same dark sense of humor and can hold an intelligent conversation for longer than five minutes.

She’s been feeling uneasy for weeks, has felt like she’s being watched on more than one occasion, but has been unable to determine the cause for such a thing. She’s chalked it up to stress, to the neverending tasks that come with being monarch to a people who seem so adamant on bringing their own destruction, worshipping a girl who has no idea how to govern the vast responsibilities and politics that come with such an occupation. Regina is tired and stressed, and the trip to visit Maleficent for a bit of monarchical camaraderie was much needed.

But before she gets back to business, she does as she always does when she returns; she goes to her vault to set eyes on her enchanted heart, for she must satisfy her obsession with confirming that it is safe and sound, and properly hidden away.

She descends the stone stairs quickly, her long satin skirt flowing elegantly behind her as she strides into the room. She goes to her large, round mirror and uses her magic to swing it forward from the wall, exposing the stacked stones behind it. She wraps her fingers around one of the larger stones, wiggling it a little until it loosens, then pulls it out to reveal a hidden space behind it. She slides her fingers carefully through the strong protective spell that guards the opening, and retrieves her beautifully carved, bright red box.

Regina cracks the lid open and peers into it.

She feels the blood drain from her face and she blinks stupidly for a moment before she sweeps her fingers inside of the box, just to be sure, but it is to no avail.

 

 

The box is empty.

 

  
And just like that, Regina’s whole world stops turning.

 

The fury and fear rise within her in equal measure, flooding her veins with adrenaline, hot tears burning her eyes, hands shaking fiercely as she continues to stare, wide-eyed, into the wooden box. She shakes harder, harder, until her hands are blurry in front of her, the box falling from her hands, clattering loudly against the stone floor and making her jump with the noise. A cry of pure rage flies from her lungs, fire burning in both palms as she loses control, charges forward and ascends the stairs two steps at a time.

The first half dozen guards she comes upon meet her anger with a fireball so intense that only the steel of their swords is left in its destruction. She is screaming, _shrieking_ for her Guard Captain, and her voice carries unnaturally through the corridors of the castle, her dark magic propelling it into every crack, every crevice.

Another dozen worthless guards meet their demise as she snaps their necks, their carcasses falling sharply to the stone floor in a deafening clatter of mass and metal. She raises her voice louder, louder, and it’s starting to crack with her ire, but she will not stop until she has some answers, will not stop until she understands where the _fuck_ her heart has gone. The man she is searching for suddenly appears in front of her, panting from having run from wherever the hell he was, fear evident in his eyes as he takes in the bodies and the shimmer of purple magic that positively emanates from his queen.

“WHERE IS IT?!” she screams at him, doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she repeats, “WHERE IS IT?!”

The man looks confused, and though a second ago she thought it impossible, her anger rises. The answer she seeks will not come, and her eyes narrow as she realizes the unfortunate truth - he is completely unaware that her heart has been stolen.

She pulls him to her with magic, holding him up by the throat in front of her as she shakes him like a ragdoll. “Useless! Impotent! Ingrate!” she screams, shaking his body harder, harder. He can’t reply, her magic grip is so tight he’s turning purple, and she can’t stand it - cannot stand the ineptitude of this man, so with the clenching of her fist and another flare of magic, she crushes every bone in his body and drops it to the floor with the rest of them.

She’s breathing hard, sweat running down from her hairline as she fights the panic back, tamps the rage down so that she can _think_. She needs to figure out what to do - she needs her fucking heart back - needs to find out how the hell this happened.

She takes a few deep breaths, tries to focus on breathing, but the stench of the dead guardsmen and burnt flesh is revolting - she can’t block it out, _can’t think -_ so she swirls away, reappearing in the privacy of her bedchamber, where she falls to her knees on the plush fur rug and screams her frustration into the empty room.

She screams until she is hoarse, until she feels her vocal cords start to tear, until the physical pain of the action hurts so much that she cannot continue. Then she stops, choking a little on the blood from her damaged throat as she stares silently into the ornate mirror across the room, all at once terrified and enraged, her dark makeup a runny mess from the tears she didn’t know she was crying, because she knows, _knows_ that there is only one person who could have slipped through her protective spell, one person who could have gotten through the blood magic.

 

Despair fills her.

 

Regina cannot even begin to imagine what disturbing, terrible plans her mother has in store for her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Regina sends her spies to every corner of her kingdom and beyond. They do not know what it is they are searching for - she’s not a fool, she realizes that no one can know about her missing heart - it is a weakness, a bargaining tool against her, and she cannot afford to tip off Cora that she is searching for her when her life, and more importantly her freedom, is on the line.

It took Regina five years from the day that Cora murdered Daniel - five years almost exactly - to figure out a way to get rid of that terrible woman. Another five years have passed since she banished her to Wonderland, since she pushed her through the looking glass that was merely rumored to be magical, since she has had to experience the disdain and disappointment lacing every word the vile woman speaks. It’s been five years, but the sting of betrayal remains fresh, every insult and manipulation hangs over her head like a guillotine waiting to drop, and Regina cannot help but think that five years is not nearly long enough apart.

It has been ten years since Cora took Daniel from her, and while time has dulled the pain, every touch of a lover still feels lacking and unexciting when compared to him. Regina has never gotten over his loss, has never been able to open her heart to another person the way she did with him. Even when someone new interests her enough to let them touch her, even when they are savvy enough to satisfy her needs, they are nothing compared to him. When Regina closes her eyes and thinks of Daniel, she can feel his touch, hear his voice, taste his kiss - and she knows, is very well aware, that she yearns for him still - has shamelessly murmured his name with other men driving deep inside of her as she shook and clenched and chased her pleasure to climax. She would give anything to see his face, to hold him in her arms once again, for every moment without him is torture.

It takes a few days but eventually Regina receives a report regarding some disturbances in the neighboring kingdom of Sherwood. Regina knows, without asking, that it is Cora. The timing, the supposed crimes, the methods are all too familiar to be anyone else. So, she keeps her spies on this lead, puts additional resources into establishing the validity, and while she awaits further information, she can do nothing but return to the task at hand - tracking down and killing Snow White.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It is early in the morning as Regina stalks down the corridor, headed to the great hall for breakfast before the days’ activities. Her heels clack against the stone and echo around her, interrupting the morning stillness with her confident stride, and as she turns down the next hallway she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. A prickle of awareness immediately shivers down her spine.

Someone is following her. Of this, she is sure.

She feels validated that her feelings from before were not paranoia from stress, that her instincts were, and are, sharp enough to detect whoever it is that has been watching her.

She doesn’t break her stride, continues onward with absolutely no sign that she has recognized the presence. Who on earth would be stupid enough to try to surprise her? Her magic enhances her senses beyond that of a normal human, beyond that of many beings, and her power and short temper are no secret to anyone. The thought that someone would even try to get past her is so intriguing that the queen has to fight a smirk from forming on her full lips. It’s been a long time since Regina has had a good game of cat and mouse, and with the stress of recent days, she’s more than ready to sharpen her claws again.

As she works through breakfast she can feel that she’s being watched, and the hair on her arms stands on end. She lets her gaze sweep casually across the large hall, but no one makes eye contact with her, no one even attempts to speak with her. The Queen's recent, seemingly unprovoked murder of her guardsmen and captain have even her most devoted subjects wary of her for the moment, and really, she can’t blame them. But still, she’d like to see what their reaction would be had they been in her shoes, almost wishes she could risk the information, could share her inner turmoil without fear of the repercussions, just to show them how one-sided they’re being.

But that’s a ridiculous notion, and Regina knows better than anyone that loneliness is merely one of the many unfortunate requirements of being Queen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As she returns her mount to the stables the next day, Regina again feels as if she’s being watched. The barn is quiet, save for the occasional nicker or stomp of one of her horses, and it is unoccupied aside from the queen. She sweeps off her large, black hat with a pronounced flourish under the ruse of smoothing back her long, black hair, and lets her eyes flicker around the rafters, the hay bales, the dark corners of the far stalls. She sees nothing, but she senses _something_.

This is starting to get interesting.

She unsaddles Rocinante and brushes him out, speaking soothingly to him as she always does, changing absolutely nothing in her routine. Regina is good at this game - is very, very, good at pretending she is unaware of things going on around her - god knows her mother and late husband both gave her ample opportunities to practice it. When she turns to the treat sack to procure a few snacks for her obedient horse, she catches the hint of a shadow being cast from the loft, and she can even see a few disturbed particles of dust drift down through the sunlight that streams in. Again, Regina fights a smirk.

She feeds Rocinante his well-deserved treats and pats his neck, scratches his ears and checks his shoes before she exits the stable. As she heads for the castle, she can’t quite keep the arrogance out of her posture at her ability to detect someone who is, beyond all doubt, excellent at remaining hidden.

Regina wonders when she will catch the person. Wonders if it is a man or woman. Wonders if they mean her harm or are merely curious of the Evil Queen. Either way, she is certain she will find out, is confident in her ability to outwit whomever it is that seems to think following her around is worth their time. She hopes she doesn’t have to resort to magic to pull them from hiding - hopes they get to discover one another through patience, sheer will, and a battle of secrecy.

 

 


	3. The Stranger

 

Chapter Two - The Stranger 

 

News of Snow White’s latest antics is delivered to the queen, and she learns the girl is trying to ally with the mermaids off the southern coast. The location is bold, well within reach of Regina’s guard, and it is naive of Snow to venture so near the castle - she must be getting desperate. Regina knows, _feels_ that this is a rare opportunity to finally capture or kill the girl.

She sends for her Huntsman but it takes him two days to arrive from wherever the hell he was. The man is infuriating, but he’s handsome, intelligent, and extremely good at his occupation, so she uses his services from time to time, when her missions require a less direct approach than sending her Queen's Guard. He is typically quiet and aloof, is more comfortable in the wilderness than the castle, and it never fails to perplex her that such a man would ever choose to live amongst wolves instead of in the company of the many women who must throw themselves at him.

It is late in the evening when Graham finally arrives. He smells of leather and wet foliage and it’s… not entirely terrible but certainly not her first choice either. He acts annoyed at being called to do her bidding, but a firm squeeze of his heart reminds him that he is completely at her mercy, and he will do as she pleases regardless of his precious _feelings_.

The anonymous, watchful gaze is on her again as she speaks with the Huntsman in her bedchambers, and it’s starting to annoy her. She still hasn’t located the person, cannot tell one detail about them and though she has felt the steady heat of their observation every single day for weeks, she has not been able to pull them from hiding. The fact that now she’s feeling the presence here, in her private quarters, only irks her more.

She tells Graham of his quest to kill Snow White - he has tracked the tart before, is familiar with her tricks and big stupid doe eyes, and she feels confident he will not be duped by her. As he kisses the back of her hand in acceptance of his royal task, Regina can't help but feel attracted to him. She likes Graham, sort of, as much as she likes anybody really, and she has to admit that she is a little weak for those angst-filled puppy dog eyes he gives her every time she sees him. When he rises to his feet and crowds her space, she lets him, tips her head up to look at him as he fights his internal demons, struggling with his decision to make a move, until he very blatantly gives up and drops his mouth to her neck to suck hot, wet kisses against her smooth skin, murmuring his gratitude for being given this opportunity to prove his loyalty to her.

She wraps her fingers around the back of his head as he kisses her neck, moving up to suck along her jawline, then her chin, then finally her lips, where he loses patience and kisses her hard, sucking at her bottom lip and dragging his teeth roughly across it, biting down as he pulls back, then returning for more. She likes the way he kisses her, like a wild animal, like he has no control over himself and cannot wait another second to put his mouth on her. She kisses him back enthusiastically, let's her tongue stroke alongside his, flicking at his lips and running across his teeth as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

There is a rustling sound, and Regina jerks her head back from Graham to glance about the room, and although gooseflesh rises up the back of her neck, she sees nothing out of the ordinary. The Huntsman seems to collect himself and steps back from her, confusion and want in his gaze, as he looks at her mouth.

She turns her back on him as she strides to the far side of the room, intent on indulging in a glass or two of wine before bed. She’s stressed from the loss of her heart and it’s starting to get to her, starting to make her more paranoid than usual and she hates that, hates feeling like she has no control of her fate.

As she pours herself a generous glass of red, Regina glances up into the ornate mirror in front of her. Graham is still staring at her, or rather, he’s staring at her ass, and a hot thrill runs straight from her belly down to her sex. It’s been a while, _quite_ a while actually, since she’s had a release brought on by someone else, and suddenly the idea of not having to take care of herself tonight is so tempting, that she inadvertently clenches her internal muscles in excitement.

Her dark red dress is low cut in the back, nearly backless save for two thin velvet straps that cross her smooth skin in the shape of an ‘X’. The shoulders are severe, pointed at the ends but the rest of the dress is soft, tight fitted velvet that hugs her hips and shows off her ass beautifully. Her hair is half up, half down, long and straight - the ebony against the red is complementary, to say the least. She smirks in the mirror and takes a sip of her wine as she asks him, “See something you like, Huntsman?”

Graham is as predictable as always when his hot eyes rake across her back and he says, “Yes, Majesty. I see something I very much like.”

She’s fucked him before - it’s a sort of game they play from time to time - he pretends to be irritated to be here, pushes her buttons and acts reticent, but he's well aware that if he's an obedient servant of Her Majesty, when the mood strikes he is first on her list of bedroom partners. He’s decent in bed, gets the job done much of the time, and when pushed, he’s got a wild feral side to him that’s left her with bruises in the shape of his perfect bite on more than one occasion.

Regina’s chest flutters a little, arousal and anticipation clicking up a notch as she looks over his reflection. She makes the decision, wants his hands all over her, wants his cock in her, wants to come - so she meets his gaze in the mirror and says, “Perhaps you should take a closer look.”

He comes up behind her and puts his hands on her hips, slides them up to her waist and then down again. His hands are hot, even through her dress, and his palms coast over her to grab handfuls of her ass as he steps even closer, lifting her cheeks a little as he rubs himself against her.

Regina bends forward, puts her palms on the table in front of her and spreads her legs wider. He squeezes her thick flesh, shifting her ass up and down against his cock as he hardens and rubs against her, and it’s hot, _he’s_ hot as she watches him in the mirror, sees him bite his lip and stare down longingly at her round behind.

Graham grasps the velvety material of her dress and starts inching it up, up, up, baring first her calves, then her thighs, and finally, her rear to him as he scrunches the skirt up at her waist. His breath shudders out quickly and he groans as he looks at her, obviously turned on as he discovers that the smooth globes of her ass are exposed by the tiny thong she wears. Regina smiles deviously, arches her back and bounces on the balls of her feet just a little to make her round cheeks shake for him as she teases, “Get to work, Huntsman.”

His hands immediately go for her thong, and that’s fine - she’s in no mood to drag this out tonight, wants him to get her off and get gone, so when he tugs it off her long legs then runs his hands back up the insides of her thighs, she parts her legs even wider for him. She hears the rustle of fabric behind her, and the next thing she knows, he slides his long cock up into her in one thrust.

Regina startles a little, her palms coming up then slapping down on the table top as she jerks forward and lets out an uncomfortable _Ah!_ at the sudden intrusion. She’s tight - hasn’t had anyone in weeks and weeks - and she’s really not that wet yet, so the last thing she expected was to have him shove into her with absolutely no foreplay. She frowns.

But then he starts thrusting, slow... slow... slow... dragging her wetness further and further down his stiff length, and it does feel good, actually, so she closes her eyes, leans forward a little further and begins rocking back against him. He grips her hips tightly as he starts up an easy rhythm, and her body adjusts, reacts to him as he goes deeper and presses against that sensitive spot inside of her. She arches her back and lets out a little noise of approval when he hits it again, and he moans loudly behind her, slides his hands down and digs his nails into the thick flesh of her ass as he slides back in.

His slow pace helps work her up, gives her a minute to visualize the few times she made love with Daniel, helps her visualize his face, his smooth, lean chest and stomach, the soft slide of his lips and hands as he covered her in his loving caress. The memories help build her arousal, get her more and more wet as he drives into her, caught up in her little fantasy of what was, and what should have been, until she's thoroughly aroused and doesn't have to think at all anymore. He pulls her hips back, moving her a half step away from the table so she's bent over more, her back arched and bracing heavily on her hands as he slides slowly into her and leans forward to grasp at her breasts through her dress. She suddenly wants to be naked, wants his hot hands against her skin, so she flicks her fingers and makes it happen. She leaves her gold stilettos on, it makes this position Graham so favors a little easier with their height difference, and her shoes are sexy and strappy, a turn on in themselves anyway. He jerks hard into her and moans loudly when his hands suddenly connect with her bare skin, and she almost grins, _almost_ , but then he pinches both of her nipples harshly and she hisses out through her teeth at his roughness.

It’s not that she doesn’t like it rough. She does. Prefers it even. But she needs a little stimulation before that kind of thing is truly enjoyable, can't just jump straight to it without a warm-up, and he’s doing an exceptionally poor job of that tonight. She grits her teeth and scolds him, “Get it together, Graham, or we’re done here.”

He mumbles an apology against her shoulder as he runs his lips and teeth across her back, starts thrusting a little faster, and Regina shifts to brace on one hand as she slides the other between her legs to rub firmly against her clit. It’s obvious he’s not going to get her there on his own tonight, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least try to make the most of his hot cock while he’s filling her. She rubs smoothly against her little bud, and it helps - oooh, oooh - it helps _a lot_. He quickens his pace, moves his hands to her hips as he slides hotly in and out, and - _yeah that's it_ \- that's much, much better. Her breathing picks up, nipples tightening in the cool air as he fucks her, and she wants to get there - wants to come - wants it harder. She opens her mouth to tell him just that, when suddenly she feels that watchful gaze on her again, and her eyes snap open to the mirror.

A rush of fear shoots down her spine. There is a man, albeit a very _handsome_ man, lurking in the back corner of her room, leaning casually against the wall on the other side of her large bed. He’s staring intently at them, or rather _, at her_ , and she should be appalled, should be outraged - knows she should kill him, should crush him with magic or at least throw him from her balcony - but… he's not threatening her, he's not doing _anything_ , just watching, and she hesitates, her slick arousal making her jaw clench as the Huntsman pleasures her. When her eyes connect with the stranger's in the mirror, a shiver runs down her, Graham hits that extra sensitive spot deep inside of her, and her mouth drops open as she moans.

 

Across the room, the stranger licks his lips.  

 

A hot, erotic thrill rushes through Regina, flaming desire licking at her lower lips and blooming outward, making her hot and sensitive like nothing she has ever felt before. Her arousal skyrockets and she’s immediately wet, lubricating Graham’s cock even more as he groans behind her and palms her breasts, his eyes closed as he kisses down her spine. It feels good, and it’s starting to feel better and better - he's hot and long and deep, she's turned on and needy - is well past due for an orgasm - and she thinks in a few minutes with her fingers swirling against her clit like this, she’s likely to come for Graham.

 

But now she can’t pull her gaze from the stranger.

 

His hot eyes rake purposefully over her in the mirror, making absolutely no apologies for his presence or his obscene voyeurism, and she doesn't know why, but she likes him looking at her, likes that he's watching, it makes her clench and want to do filthy things to see how far she can push him. Regina bites her bottom lip as an intense rush of adrenaline floods through her, and she says, “Harder,” on a hot breath as she locks eyes with him.

Graham obliges, starts thrusting steadily, jerking her body with the motion as he pinches her nipples, the slap of his skin against hers heightening the experience as the other man brings one hand up and rubs it across his scruffy jawline.

 

He’s hot.

 

And even with the Huntsman thrusting hard inside of her, Regina wants him.

 

“Faster,” she pants, and Graham increases his speed, stays deep in her and gives her quick-quick-quick thrusts as she flurries her fingers over her clit. Graham is grunting, his thrusts hard and fast just like she’s asked him for, and he leans forward to say something in her ear but she hisses, “Shut up,” before he can. He goes back to nipping along her shoulder blades as she pushes her hips back in counter rhythm, trying to increase the pleasure, arching her back a little harder as she rubs her clit and stares at the stranger in the mirror.

The man’s unabashed gaze slides down to watch the busy fingers she’s got buried between her thighs, and when he rubs himself over his pants she moans. His eyes snap to hers, his brows raised heavenward in amusement, and when Regina breathes, “More,” _both_ men do as they’re told.

She’s getting close, can feel the hot tingle from her clit starting to work it’s way further out, her internal muscles tightening and thighs shaking just a bit as Graham slides in and out of her, and now the hard grip he has on her breasts is starting to feel good. The stranger rubs himself over his trousers again and she purposefully drops her gaze to his hand, bites her lip and flashes her eyes at him as she challenges, her voice rough and low, “Show me how hard you are for me.”

Graham thrusts harder, driving his length into her, panting as he tries to comply, not realizing that she wasn't talking to him.

To her complete amusement and arousal, the stranger opens his trousers, pulls his long, thick cock out, and raises his brows as he starts to stroke himself.

Regina moans loudly at the sight - _Oh god -_ that's just - _jesus_ she wants him. She works her clit faster as Graham grunts behind her, thrusting hard and fast, and she’s so wet, so ridiculously wet but it’s not for him, it’s for this other man, with his deliciously thick cock in his hand that she suddenly wants to put her mouth around. She’s on fire for him, for the man who is watching her touch herself, who is hard for her as another man fucks her, and he’s touching himself because she challenged him to, touching himself because he is aroused by _her_ , and it’s so hot - _oh god_ \- it’s so deliciously intense. She spirals up, up, tries to keep her eyes on the man as she feels the flutters start, as her clit throbs under her fingers and she gets tighter, tighter around Graham, and when the stranger gives her a wide, Cheshire cat smile, accompanied by this hot little wink, she knows that _he knows_ how close she is - and she barely has time to grin back at him before she _fucking comes._

Her thighs shake, hips jerking as her clit throbs and the hot pleasure radiates out. She keeps her trembling fingers on her sensitive bud, rubs vigorously and causes another hot rush to race through her as she writhes on the Huntsman's cock. He's still fucking her _hard, hard, hard,_ jostling her with his thrusts as her internal muscles clench and contract around his length, and he’s moaning harshly as she pushes back against him, getting him deep, getting as much pleasure as she can as she moans and commands, “ _Don’t stop!”_ with her eyes locked on the man behind them.

The other man pumps himself quickly, his stare so hot on her she swears she can feel the heat, and Regina’s mouth is open - gasping deep breaths as she shudders and shakes, as the arousal washes through her and she pants with the glorious sensation. Her chest is flushed, nipples peaked as her breasts bounce, her arm starting to tremble from bracing on it for so long. She starts coming down but continues to move, drags the last few shudders from herself as her fingers finally still and then press firmly against her clit, and she takes a deep, heaving breath as her tremors start to subside. She licks her lips wantonly as the stranger silently stares at her naked, flushed, body, shuddering and jerking forward with each stroke of Graham’s cock. She braces both hands in front of her, looking right at the man, not even trying to be secretive, and she watches with rapt attention as he swirls his thumb lightly across the head of his cock, slowing down with her as she comes down, synching up with her, and _godddd_ she wants him, wants _his_ cock inside of her _right now_.

 

And she thinks she’ll have it.

 

Graham is still fucking her - hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary - is driving and panting and whining a little as he pistons quickly in and out of her. She can tell he's getting close, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips as his strokes stutter a little, but she’s done - she’s done with him for now, and she wants him gone.

When he pulls back on his next thrust she shifts forward purposefully so that he slips out of her. He grabs himself, tries to slide back in but she moves her hips away, and says, a little breathlessly, “No.”

Graham groans loudly in protest, gives himself a few good strokes, staring all the while at her ass, then reaches for her again, shoves his cock back inside of her even as she tries to pull away.

 

She’s instantly furious. Absolutely fucking livid.

 

He gets one, two good, hard thrusts into her before her magic flares, and she teleports him from the room. He can spend the rest of his evening in the fucking dungeon for his disobedience.

She’s aroused and angry, breathing hard as she leans heavily on her palms. How _dare_ he, how _dare_ he think for one second that he had any control of this. He's lucky she didn't kill him, lucky she has such an important task for him or she'd be standing over his lifeless body right now.

 

She takes a deep breath, and when she finally gathers herself and brings her eyes back up to the mirror, she’s honestly a little surprised to see the stranger is still there.

He’s halfway across the room to her now, has tucked himself back into his pants but hasn't bothered to do up the buttons, and he's holding a small dagger in his right hand. As she watches, he slides it back into the sheath across his chest, and this little rushing realization runs through her. He is much, much closer than he was a second ago - could it… could it be that he meant to protect her from Graham? She almost laughs - what an odd, complicated man he must be, to be so lecherous in one instant and so honorable in the next. She has to admit that she's intrigued by him, is perplexed by his protective actions when the Huntsman tried to take more than she was willing to give.

Regina immediately corrects herself - she knows better than to think like that - she's the Evil Queen and doesn't need _or_ want anybody's help. She pushes the thought down, forces her mind to shut up and think about the stranger’s sizable cock as she takes another steadying breath.

Her swollen, wet sex clenches in greedy anticipation and she swallows hard, turns around and boosts herself up on the table, crosses her legs and sets eyes on him for the first time.

Regina looks him over, takes in the broad set of his shoulders, his thick chest and arms, his large, rough-looking hands, and obvious erection tenting his pants, and she likes, she _really likes,_ what she sees. As he takes another step toward her she thinks that his reflection doesn’t do him justice.

 

He’s more than handsome.

 

He’s gorgeous.

 

Bright blue eyes, straight, white teeth, strong jawline, and a smirk that pulls his deep dimples out and makes her want to kiss them.

 

She shivers.

 

Then she drops her chin to look up at him through her long, dark lashes, crooks her finger at him and says quietly, “Come here.”

 


	4. The Demonstration

 

 

Chapter Three - The Demonstration 

 

At her command, the man closes the gap between them quickly, walks right up to her as if she isn't the Evil Queen, as if he shouldn't be afraid of the consequences for breaking into her bedroom and participating in licentiousness that might even make Maleficent blush. Keeping her knees together, she uncrosses her legs as he nears her, raises her foot and presses the pointed heel of her golden shoe into his shoulder to hold him back a little as she looks him over. He leans into her leg lightly, but she doesn't give, and his dark gaze intensifies, then turns hungry as he sweeps his eyes across her face, her lips, her naked breasts, and thighs.

Regina makes a low hum of approval - he's even better looking up close, the smile lines at his eyes are endearing, the cut of his masculine jaw makes her want to nip along the edge, and his broad chest looks hard and muscular where the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. And he smells ah-may-zing. Like pine and earth and spring water and something she can only describe as _forest._

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she drawls, keeping her voice low and not quite able to pull the arousal from her tone.

The man tilts his head as he drags his eyes over the long, smooth length of leg she has extended toward him and licks his full lips. Her gaze is drawn to the action, and she wants to kiss him, wants to taste the inside of his mouth and feel his tongue against hers. He hasn't even said a word to her but she _knows_ he's got a clever tongue, she just _knows_ it.

His blue eyes come back to hers and he catches her looking at his mouth. Regina smirks in her guilt, and her smile grows as he says, “It's my belief that if a man doesn't know how to properly bring his woman to orgasm, he should be immediately replaced with one who does, Milady.”

A beat of silence passes as he holds her gaze, and suddenly, Regina laughs. That was certainly not the answer she was expecting. Her chest shakes as she tries to tamp down her amusement, but she winds up laughing softly anyway as she flashes him a rare, completely _genuine_ smile.

 

And did she mention he's got an accent? Her thighs clench.

 

“And I suppose _you_ are such a man?” Regina asks boldly, bringing one hand up to slide slowly down the column of her throat.

He studies the movement, watches as her soft fingers stroke along the smooth skin, and his eyes openly showcase his arousal. He appears to be totally absent of even a trace of fear of her, and his lack of concern pleases her immensely.

“I would leave that determination to Her Majesty's opinion,” he replies, his voice a bit lower as he reaches his left hand up to play with the buckle of her shoe. He doesn't touch her skin, just the leather that crosses her ankle, and for some reason, this is more sexy to her than if he had stroked her sensitive flesh. He has restraint, this man, and it's making her hot for him.

Regina _hmm's_ as she watches his fingers trace the golden leather down across the top of her foot. She arches her back, lightly presses her sharp heel into his chest as she raises one eyebrow at him and challenges, “I’m afraid I cannot make such a decision without a proper demonstration.”

His grin is beautiful. Confident, bright, sexy, and promising all at once. She has the urge to kiss him again.

His fingers go back to the buckle of her shoe, and when he asks quietly, “May I?” she nods her approval. He slips her shoe off carefully, leans in to set it next to her on the table, and her breath catches idiotically - like a young maiden awaiting her first kiss. She could roll her eyes at her reaction, and is a little embarrassed when she sees his small, knowing smile as he leans back. He keeps her foot at his shoulder with the squeeze of his hand, then motions for her other foot. He removes that shoe quickly, but holds it out for her to take, and she's a little miffed about it for a second, but then he's placing that foot against his other shoulder and she's suddenly about one second from being on full display for him.

He takes a tiny step back from her though, so her legs are out straight, thighs together, and her feet are resting right against the meat of his pectorals. He brings both hands up and strokes her from the top of her foot all the way to her knees, and she sighs in satisfaction - it seems she's not going to have to worry about a lack of foreplay this time.

The touch is beautiful - arousing and explorative and just really, really _nice_. Regina can't remember the last time she had sex - or really, was even _touched_ , quite like this. She has had an… _admirable_ number of partners in her lifetime - nothing near the number that's rumored, but enough to know good sex from the bad - and what this man is doing to her is definitely _good_ , as he circles his hands around under her legs and squeezes her calves, strokes and kneads the muscles to get her to relax for him.

“Those shoes are undeniably sexy,” he says quietly, and Regina's arousal ramps up - he's a talker - _oh god_ \- she is weak for a man who can work her up with words. “But I much prefer what's being shown off by them,” he continues, swirling his thumbs against her toned muscles and massaging the backs of her ankles as his gaze rakes across her naked legs. He tilts his head and gives her a cocky smile, “Especially, when what's on display needs absolutely no improvement.”

Regina's already inflated ego spikes up at his compliment, and a rush of heat floods her sex.

 

Well, well.

 

This man has either done his homework to discover just what she likes, or he's very, very good at improvising. Either way, she doesn't care, just wants him to continue.

Regina lets her head tip back in pleasure as he massages her legs, working over the muscles of her calves with long, firm strokes, kneading the arch of each foot and the balls of her feet, then, with his hands holding her feet flat against his chest, he carefully takes a step closer. It causes her knees to bend, and before he can take another step she has a decision to make - will she part her thighs for him, or straighten her knees and push him back?

She takes a moment just for good measure, pretends like she's considering her options as he looks challengingly into her eyes, and she knows she going to open for him, but it's still nice, still appreciated that she does not see expectation in his expression. She sees arousal, confidence, something dark and intense that she can’t quite discern, but not expectation. He presses forward lightly, slowly starts to step into her, and she obediently parts her toned, creamy thighs for him.

He smirks and is completely shameless - drops his gaze immediately to her wet, pink sex and lets out this low groan in the back of his throat that raises gooseflesh across her chest in reaction. He steps in a little closer, bends his knees slowly and slides her legs up, situating her calves up on top of his shoulders, then goes the rest of the way down onto his knees before her.

The look of pure lust he gives her as he reaches up and tugs her hips toward his mouth stirs emotions in Regina that she hasn't felt in more years than she'd like to admit. She is clearly aroused, and excited, but there's something else - something familiar about this man that she can't quite define that works her up, gets her pulse racing just from looking at him. As his hot breath hits her moist lips, she takes a sharp inhale and some ridiculous, sappy sweet feeling flows through her of how good it feels to do this with a man that takes his time, a man who doesn’t rush, a man who’s not _afraid_ of her.

“Are you certain that's where you want to spend your time?” she breathes - giving him an out - knows that it can't be the most appetizing task after her recent activities with Graham.

But he just narrows his eyes at her, runs his hot, wet tongue across her smooth outer lips in this long, slow lick, and looks her right in the eyes as he says, “I assure you, Your Majesty, there is not a place in this realm that is more appealing.”

 

Her heart flips, her stomach drops out, and hot desire blooms in her already wet sex.

 

If he keeps this up, she might yet be convinced to let him live.

 

He descends on her, running his lips and tongue across her sex like she imagines he would do with her mouth. His lips pull and suck at her, his tongue swirls and drags hotly through her folds, and she shudders with the increased sensitivity she’s still feeling from her first orgasm. He’s slow and thorough, and she needs that - needs this easy build up if he wants to really turn her out again. She _mmm’s_ as his tongue laps at her, long slow licks that trail up each side of her sex, then through the middle, before he drags the back of his tongue down her. It’s different - smooth and silky and warm - and she likes it - likes that he’s creative. He continues this pattern, licks each side and then up and down through the center, sucking lightly at her inner lips as he sweeps his tongue across her.

His fingers swirl against her thighs as he bathes her sex with his tongue, and it feels wonderful. Regina lets her head fall back against the mirror, runs one hand across her flat, toned stomach and up to cup and knead her own breast, to tease her nipple, as he circles and circles her clit. The combination is lovely, makes her breath hitch with anticipation, and when he finally sucks her clit into his mouth, she pinches her nipple, tugging and twisting a little as the fingers of her other hand splay in his soft hair, and she rocks her hips up to meet his mouth as he continues his wet, warm attentions.

He’s so, so good. The pleasure he gives her is hot and wet, and unhurried - her sex is swollen and tingling with arousal, her slick lubrication smearing across his scruffy chin as he picks up the pace, starts flicking at her clit while she rolls her hips under him. The pleasure is fantastic, his short beard rasps against her inner thighs as his smooth, soft lips and tongue glide over her and Regina wants to see how hard he can get her off, is curious just _how_ good he is at this, so she tells him, “More - give me more,” and she feels him nip her inner thigh before one of his hands joins his mouth. He slides his middle finger slowly, slowly up into her, and he groans as he does, it, huffs out a loud breath as he pulls his mouth up from her swollen clit with an obscene <smack> of his lips to watch his digit penetrate her. He licks his lips and peppers her smooth mound with open-mouthed kisses as he starts to thrust his finger inside of her, and it feels great, it does, but it’s not enough, especially not since she’s already had a man in her tonight, has already felt that pleasurable stretch, and she wants that feeling again. She repeats, “More, _more_ ,” to him, and as his eyes rake up her body he frowns as he catches her playing with her breast.

The next thing she knows, he slides her knees down to his elbows and he’s standing, reaching for her waist as he hauls her up against him, picking her up from the table like she weighs nothing. Once he gets her situated in his strong arms so that her breasts are at eye level, he immediately drops his lips to her, suckling her nipples into his hot mouth and pulling a deep shiver from her as he switches back and forth between them. He tongues each one, sucks heartily and lightly scrapes his teeth across the curving swells of her full mounds, and Regina drops her head back, moaning and gyrating her hips against his waist as he covers her chest with nips and kisses and licks. He turns then, spins them toward her bed and moves quickly - and she’s too worked up, is slow to respond - so he's got her flat on her back before she can tell him no - she doesn’t fuck in this bed - this is _her_ bed and she doesn’t share it.

Regina opens her mouth to say this, but he’s jamming a pillow under her ass suddenly, tilting her pelvis up as he shoves her thighs wide, wide, wide - opens her completely, obscenely wide for him. He puts his hands right on the hinge of her inner thighs, spreads her outer lips apart with his thumbs, then drops his mouth straight to her clit and sucks.

Regina’s cries out - _OH! Oh god! -_ with the sharp streak of pleasure he creates, her back arches and she lurches upward, but his strong hands are firm on her pelvis as he holds her steady. Her clit is so much more sensitive like this - _oh god -_ with her sex spread open and her smooth skin taught under his tongue. She pants heavily, a little frantic with the sharp, intense arousal he’s created in her, and then he slips two fingers up into her and she groans, _Oh-God-Yes_ as he fills her.

His thrusts are smooth and quick inside of her, and he curls his fingers, tries a few different angles that all feel wonderful, but he doesn't stop searching, doesn't stop adjusting until he discovers _that_ spot where her hips jerk automatically with the white-hot pleasure.

“Ooo,” she whines, twisting her fingers tightly in her silk sheets, completely forgetting that he's not supposed to be in her bed in the first place as she gasps, “Yeah, yeah - _right_ there.”

His fingers find a rhythm in her that nudges against her just right, and a flash of heat runs across her chest, tightening her nipples as he works her. He brings his other hand down to play lightly across her clit, and his touch is perfect - light enough not to irritate the over-sensitive nub, but firm enough to start pulling her desire up, making her moan for him.

She has to admit that he's really, really good at this. He pays attention to her body and listens to her cues, keeps a steady, even pace as he thrusts, knows better than to make his fingers too stiff - gives her just enough so he's solid and firm inside of her but not unforgiving, and _jesus_ \- he rubs sweet, tight little circles over her clit and - _oh-mi-god-_ if he keeps going she’s going to come _so hard_ for him.

And it suddenly hits her that she hasn't even touched him yet - she's completely naked, hands twisting and pulling at the sheets beneath her as he thoroughly fingers her with all his clothes on. She thinks she should probably do something about that, but then he shifts, moves up her body a little to put his sinful lips on her breast while his hands pleasure her sex, and she immediately stops thinking. He sucks her peaked nipple between his lips and she arches toward him with it, so sensitive, so alive and on fire with arousal and the liquid heat that's flooding her sex. She shudders under him, under the trifecta of pleasure he's giving her - tits, clit, and slit all swollen and needy for her release as he works her up, and all she can think is - _Jesus_ , what he's doing to her is downright magic.

He lets her nipple slip from his mouth and nips the underside of her breast, then tugs the little bud back between his lips to suckle hard, squeezing and pulling rhythmically as she squirms under him and pants _-yeah-yeah-yeah_. Regina feels her thighs start to shake, her hips thrusting on their own against his hands, and she can't stop, doesn't want to stop, wants him to make her see stars, needs him to -

“ _Christ,_ Regina,” he interrupts her thoughts on a long, needy moan, “You're so fucking hot I could come right now - you haven't even put your pretty hands on me yet and I could paint you with my come.”

Regina shivers, lets his use of her name pass for now, but only because she’s so close and what he's saying is _hot_ , as she thrusts her hips up as she gasps, _Faster, faster!_

His fingers speed within her, the calloused pads thumping quick-quick-quick-quick-quick right against her most sensitive spot, and his other hand rubs vigorously against her clit, back-and-forth in quick succession as she tightens, starts spiraling up.

“ _Fuck_ you’re tight,” he growls, thrusting his fingers a little more forcefully, “Your hot little cunt is clenching so hard on my fingers,” Regina arches, her clit throbbing, so close, so close - _oh god_. He sucks her nipple roughly and she moans, his fingers working her furiously as he says, “You like it hard, don’t you? Always knew you were a wanton little slut,” and she gasps, shocked and offended but so close, _fuck she’s so close._

He sucks her nipple, thrums over her clit and hits her g-spot all at once as he says, “Come for me, let's have a taste of how you're gonna squeeze my cock tonight,” and she shatters on him, a hot gush of fluid rushing from her as she swivels her hips and arches up, groaning loud and long and just a little bit hoarse. He works his thick fingers deep into her as she spasms and clenches and grinds down on his hand, reveling in the way her internal muscles squeeze and release as her pulse pounds furiously in her clit, making her twitch away from his rubbing fingers only to come right back for another quick touch that makes her even more wet, keeps her pleasure soaring as she pants and writhes under him.

When she finally, finally hits that oversensitive stage, she jerks her hips away, grabs at his wrist and tells him, “Enough _\- ahhh-_ enough.” She's embarrassed by her tone, by the high, needy octave her voice hits, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath to try to calm herself. He moves his hands from her sex to run all over her flushed skin - her sticky thighs, her stomach, her hips, her breasts, and _godddd_ he feels so amazing as he strokes her down from her ecstasy that she forgets to scold him for calling her a slut.

 

She relaxes back as he soothes her body, blissed out and shivering with little pulsing aftershocks. She’s had two, pretty fantastic orgasms tonight thanks to him, and he impresses the hell out of her - he's not even trying to get inside of her yet, isn't pushing for anything as he strokes her body and helps her come back down. And _jesus_ , he's still wearing all of his clothes, his boots, his daggers strapped across his chest and belt, and she hasn't so much as rubbed against that impressive cock he's been teasing her with all night. His restraint is incredible. She wonders how long he can last, how good he can make her feel before she breaks him or one of them comes to their senses.

A smirk hits her lips as she thinks of all the things she wants to do, all the things they haven't tried yet, and the smirk turns into a grin as she rubs her hands over her face and admits - it's going to be a very, very late night for her.  

He climbs up her body and lays next to her, a little breathless too, and she tips her head to the side to look at him - she wants to get a good look at those bright blue eyes.

 

Damn, he's handsome.

 

And filthy.

 

And really, really good in bed.

 

Regina sits up a little to lean over him, still panting, heart racing as she looks into his eyes. She strokes along his scruffy jawline, wraps her fingers tightly around his chin, and finally asks him the questions she probably should have started with.

 

“Who the hell are you, and what is it you want?”

 

He has the audacity to smirk, to fucking smirk at her, as she stares him down.

She supposes it doesn't help that she's naked, sweaty, and panting from the orgasm he just gave her, but still. The _nerve_ of him.

“I’m called Robin Hood,” he says as his eyes sweep over her chest and then back up to her eyes. “And what I want, is to make you come on my cock, Your Majesty.”

Her lips should not form into a sultry smile. Her breath shouldn't catch in excitement. Her sex shouldn't throb in arousal.

 

But it does.

 

She can't decide how to respond - she knows she should push this, should force him to tell her his agenda - he could be an assassin, a spy, a lunatic for all she knows.

Or not.

And if she tortures him now, she's going to miss out on what is seriously promising to be a _very_ satisfying night. A night full of things she hasn't had in years, hasn't had, maybe ever.

 

Decisions, decisions.

 

She weighs her options, her grip harsh on his chin as she stares down at him, and he moves his right hand slowly, carefully, up, up to her breast. He takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and gives it a light tug, rolls the sensitive peak, pinches lightly, then harder, harder until it _almost_ hurts, then releases it, only to strum his thumb vigorously across the pebbled flesh before lightly, oh-so-so-lightly sliding the pad of his finger across the very tip.

 

She shivers.

 

Fuck it.

 

In for a penny, in for a pound.

 

 


	5. The Balcony

 

 

Chapter Four - The Balcony 

 

She might be dying.

 

Or on fire.

 

Or maybe she’s dying because she _is_ on fire - with pure, raging lust.

It turns out that Robin Hood is an absolute god in bed - his hot touches are perfect, his mouth heaven-sent - he seems to have stamina that lasts for hours and Regina has the sore, swollen flesh to prove it.

His tongue is in her mouth and while she doesn’t normally do this, doesn’t kiss and stroke her tongue against another lover’s, she was too turned on to resist when he pulled her to him, was too enthralled with the softness of his smooth lips and the rough scrape of his beard to protest when he sucked her top lip and stroked his hand along the side of her neck. He's been nothing short of spectacular tonight, and she feels addicted, _wants_ to give him whatever he asks for because he keeps making her feel so, _so_ good.

After she finally got his clothes off and his thick cock in her mouth, she just couldn’t seem to stop. She doesn’t mind giving head anymore, got over her fear of it long ago, and since _she_ loves being licked and sucked into orgasm, she figures it’s fair game for the few lovers she deems worthy of her exceptionally talented mouth. And she likes the feeling of being in control of a man - there’s nothing a man prizes more than his cock, and when she’s got a man in her mouth she feels powerful in this feminine way that neither her title nor her magic has been able to recreate. So, it has its perks.

Robin is thick, and long, and she can’t even suck him all the way down - he’s too big, so she gagged purposefully on him, pulled him in again, and again, let her throat constrict on him because he moaned, and shook, and rocked his hips up toward her when she did it. He was easy to work up - he’d been hard since before her first orgasm, and it didn’t take long for her soft, stroking fingers to get him close, her mouth licking and lapping and sucking on the smooth, salty head of him until he tried to pull away, warned her that he was going to _fill that pretty mouth with come_ if she didn’t let up.

Even in his desperation for release though, and in spite of his filthy words, he never once forced her head down onto him, even apologized quietly when he jerked up into her mouth as she sucked hard on the head of him, her tongue swirling around and around, lapping up his precum and running under the sensitive edge, her fingers squeezing the length of him in tandem with the suction of her lips. He’s a strange mixture of absolute debauchery and chivalry, and it makes her so hot, confuses her emotions and sends heat and moisture streaking through her core that she’s positive is completely inappropriate for a woman of her title and stature. She wanted to see him come, wanted to watch his cock pulse and give her the satisfaction of making him as undone as he’d made her, so Regina stripped control from him, sucked him in deep, pumped him smooth and fast with one hand and massaged his balls with the other while he groaned and twisted under her. She licked and swirled and sucked on him as he stroked his fingers through her thick, dark hair in a way that was much too sweet for the illicit task she was performing, until he shuddered, thrusting up as she finally pulled back, grinning with self-satisfaction and pumping him fast with her hand, as he came _hard_ , shooting hot jets of come up onto his stomach.

 

What she didn't expect, was the little makeout session she now finds herself in. Regina's sexual encounters haven't exactly revolved around deep kisses and soft strokes. There is always an agenda, a purpose, some detail lurking in the background that pulls her emotions away, ruins any chance of a sweet moment before it begins. But she doesn’t feel that with Robin. She knows there is more to the story than he has told her, she's not a fool, but he makes her body feel incredible, and in this moment she cannot find the will to care about his ulterior motives. So as he pulls her to him and kisses her softly, licking at her lips and running his tongue across the roof of her mouth, she sucks his bottom lip and just goes with it.

He rolls them so he’s on top of her, belly's pressed together, his come smearing between them as he strokes her tongue with his. He's so masculine, so handsome, so… woodsy? and she finds that she likes the feel of him as his mouth moves over hers. Likes it very, very much.

He's as good at kissing as she guessed he'd be - thorough, confident, careful but also a little needy as he nips her bottom lip, lets his incisors scrape lightly over it as he tugs before biting his own bottom lip and coming back to her. Regina is eager for his lips against hers, is enjoying the less practiced art of fucking with her mouth as they thrust their tongues against each other and stroke sensually. He skates his lips down from her hers and drops warm, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of her chin, traces the edge of her jawline then sucks hotly against her neck, marking her, as his right hand runs the length of her side, drawing gooseflesh and a little shiver from her as he goes. Regina arches up for him, her neck is sensitive and his mouth is doing things to her that have her squirming, have her sex starting to throb in arousal as he sucks hotly all along her collarbone and the tops of her breasts. She can feel his cock coming back to life against her as he threads his fingers into her hair, tugging and playing with the black strands as he tips her head back into the pillows to suck the column of her throat.

His sweet attentions coax soft, easy noises of arousal from Regina and she can't stop herself from rolling her hips against his as he continues to rekindle her desire, and she runs her hands all over his strong, muscled back, across his broad shoulders, scrapes her nails down his arms and then squeezes the hard bulge of his biceps. He's a beautiful specimen of a man - hard in _all_ the right places, but not so much that he feels too heavy or too chiseled against her softer body. She doesn't feel trapped under him, the old familiar panic doesn't rise when he lays on her like this. His skin is smooth and nearly hairless against hers, and she catches herself thinking that he feels… he's just… _right_.

He shifts to her side, lets his leg slide between hers so she can rub herself against him as he starts to stroke along her side, working his way in a little each time, until he’s stroking from the top of her mound to the underside of her breast. It feels incredible - soft and sweet and smooth - and then he shifts his leg away and dips his fingers down to rub light little circles against her clit, trails them up through his come on her belly, up further to circle and peak her nipple, then down again, and Regina's breath hitches, her sex clenching at the action. He continues this, up and down her body, from sensitive peak to sensitive bud, stopping to circle and stimulate at each end, up and down, up and down, all the while intermingling their fluids across her belly, and soon she’s breathing hard and starting to tremble under him as her arousal increases with every stroke of his hand.

She thinks he might get her off like this, with these slow, sensual touches, especially when she catches him breathing hard too, licking his lips and staring at her face as he watches her reactions, adjusting and spending a little more time in places that make her breath catch or her tongue dart out to wet her lips. On his next pass up from her wet sex though, he pulls his hand away, sucks his fingers into his mouth and moans with the taste of her, and Regina starts to shake under him, her body full of anticipation. He runs the fingers he's just sucked on over her belly, through his come, circles her nipple to coat it thoroughly, and holds his hand up to her, eyebrows raising in challenge. She doesn't do this either - never lets a man spill in her mouth, and certainly doesn't put his come on her tongue on purpose but… She tells her brain to shut up, she's enjoying what they’re doing if only her mind will stop pestering her, and with that, she reaches for him, strokes her fingers up his forearm then down to his wrist, brings his hand to her mouth, and sucks his fingers clean.

His hips thrust against her as she licks and suckles his fingers, his cock hard against her thigh as he stares at her mouth, at her full lips as she works around his digits and cleans every trace from him. When she releases him he drops his hand down to her nipple, peaked and cool and a little sticky from his thick come, and he pinches, tugs and plays with her as he says, his voice low and gravelly, “ _Christ,_ you look good with my come all over you.”

She barely has time to moan before his lips are back on hers, hot and desperate, and things only escalate from there.

 

He convinces her it’s a good idea to fuck on the balcony, drags her by the hand from the comfort of her soft bed and stands behind her, hands on her hips as he walks her forward one slow step at a time. Regina’s heart is pounding, she should not do this, should not go out there naked and flushed with the intention of having yet _another_ orgasm, but his fingers stroke all across her body, hips-stomach-breasts-shoulders and then down again. She can feel the mixture of their fluids cooling on her belly, running down a little, and it’s obscene, completely improper, but she is outrageously aroused by all of it, is wet and throbbing between her thighs with the promise of more pleasure. So she drops her head back against Robin’s shoulder, rubs her hands across his forearms, and closes her eyes as she lets him walk her out there.

He walks them to the very edge, takes her hands and gets her to move so that she’s leaning forward, hands braced on the railing, back arched up as she faces the courtyard. He kisses all across her back, down her spine and further, further, until he drops to his knees behind her and nudges her feet a little further apart. He grasps her ass cheeks and spreads her wide, his hot breath hitting the outer lips of her sex, and then his mouth is against her, and he’s eating her out from behind and running his tongue _everywhere_. She’s struggling to keep silent, there are a good dozen people or so below them, just going about their business, completely unaware that their queen is covered in come and _this close_ to her third orgasm of the night, and all it will take is one moan to pull someone’s attention in their direction. She should stop, should consider the ramifications of her actions but...

 _Godddd_ it just feels _soooo good._

He’s in no hurry on her but her arousal rushes fast in spite of that - or perhaps, _because_ of that. His tongue swirls around her entrance and dips casually in and out of her as two of his fingers rub her clit in soft, quick swirls, and her breath is starting to catch, her nipples tight as the cool evening breeze brushes over her. Regina squirms a little as he laps at her, as he drags his tongue back, back, up to obscenely skirt through the cleft of her ass, nipping her lower back as he slides his fingers down from her clit to circle around her wet entrance, teasing her with shallow thrusts before he finally slides his ring and middle finger smoothly up into her.

She jerks - _jesus that’s good_ \- and she has to clench her fists, has to pound them a little on the stone railing to keep the moan from working its way out of her throat, but he’s relentless on her, is determined to break her silence, it seems. His fingers thrust deep and fast as he bites the curve of her ass cheek, kneads the other one with his strong fingers and spreads her apart so he can run his tongue through her cleft again.

He’s so filthy. _Jesus_. Her thighs tremble as his fingers _thrust-thrust-thrust_ quickly, her slick desire thickly coating his hand - she can feel herself dripping, every stroke of his hand causing her to create more and more wetness for him, and she starts moving, shamelessly bouncing on the balls of her feet to thrust herself onto him, trying to ride his fingers as hard as possible.

She’s getting close, can feel the quiver of her lower abdominal muscles as her body excites, but she wants to come _on_ him this time - wants to come on his cock like he said he wanted - so she tries to tell him, pants breathlessly - “ _Oh my god -_ get inside me _right now._ ”

He moans quietly behind her and slides his thick fingers from her, runs his hands up the back of her thighs and she feels the heat of his naked body as he steps in close behind her. His hard cock bumps her ass, and he teases her with it, strokes it across her cheeks, spreads her wide with one hand and taps the head of it against her rear opening in quick little slaps. He runs it up and down her cleft, up and down, then it feels wet as he presses the head lightly against her rear entrance, then a little harder, a little harder still, just barely starting to penetrate her as he growls in her ear, “I bet you’d fucking like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to bury my thick cock in your tight little arse.”

She moans softly - _Oh god_.

She doesn’t like that actually, doesn’t want that, but for some reason the threat of it from _him_ is fucking hot. She jerks her hips away, warns, “Don’t you dare,” and he nips the top of her shoulder, presses his lips to her ear as he says hotly, confidently, “You’ll beg me for it someday.”

_Jeeeesus._

She won’t - she knows she won’t. But fuu-uuck - how in the hell did he learn to talk, to tease like that?

He steps into her and slides his stiff length through her slit, coating him with her abundant wetness, and he moans softly into her neck, dropping his head down as he says, “ _Christ,_ woman how wet can you get?”

Regina grins, bumps her ass back against him and baits him with a breathy, “How wet can you make me?”

He moans quietly, rubs the head of his cock through her slick, swollen folds, then finally gives her what's she's wanted all night - he slides his thick length up into her, inching in deeper, deeper until he's completely sheathed in her, and she almost cries out with the intense pleasure that shoots through her as he stretches her. He's one step ahead of her though, and she's actually grateful for it when he claps his hand across her mouth to quiet her as he holds himself completely still, buried deep - _deep_ inside of her.

What happens next is not very queenly. Not very regal, nor proper, or even slightly acceptable in any social circles Regina has ever been a part of.

 

Not that any of their activities up to this point have been. Not that she cares to begin with.

 

But she shocks _herself_ a little as she lets him do it, lets him wrap his left arm tight across her hips as he slides his right hand down from her mouth to her throat, holds firmly but not so tight that her breathing is truly restricted, and he pulses his hand against her throat as he starts sliding slowly in and out, in and out of her.

Her history tells her she should be panicking, should be clawing and scratching and fighting his display of dominance.

 

But she doesn't _want to_.

 

She _likes it._

 

He’s got control of when she takes deep gasping breaths, and he’s not actually choking her, but he is controlling the _when_ of her breaths, and she’s gasping in when he strokes in, and huffing out when he slides out. It’s intense, and hot, and _new_. Regina has never allowed a man to do this, doesn’t like to give up even the illusion of control - but then, she’s never let a man do a lot of things she’s let _him_ do tonight - and it just feels so, so amazing that she arches her back and on her next breath she gasps, “Yes.”

He speeds up behind her, starts a smooth rhythm that spreads slick heat through her sex - she was close before, is still hot and swollen and sensitive, and he stretches her entrance wide, stretches her so erotically tight that on instinct she widens her legs and bends forward at the waist to better accommodate him. She feels him snicker behind her, and when he whispers, “Good girl,” to her, her clit throbs so hard she just about faints.

He slides his hand from her throat as he increases the pace of his thrusts, moves both hands to her breasts and cups them, squeezing and playing with them as he starts fucking her harder. Her nipples are sensitive from the cool night air and his thorough attentions tonight, so when he grasps each one between his thumb and forefinger and rubs them, her hips jerk against him, a flood of desire spiking directly from her nipples to her clit. He rubs and rolls and tugs them as he pistons into her, as he stretches her and pounds deeper and deeper, until he nudges against her sensitive spot, and she has to bite her lip hard to keep from moaning, to keep from begging him to give her _more-more-more_.

He releases her breasts suddenly, brings his hands around and pushes between her shoulder blades with one hand while his other goes to her waist and gets her to take a step back with him. He pushes her shoulders down, and she goes willingly, until she’s bent right over, her ass in the air and hands clutching the lower part of the railing spindles as he quietly groans and whispers _Oh-my-fucking-god_ behind her. He starts shoving into her with hard, deep, punctuated thrusts, and she almost loses her balance but he’s got her hard by the hips, and he pulls her back against him as he slaps his pelvis against the backs of her thighs. He’s outrageously, ridiculously deep, hits her cervix when he rails hard into her, and she hisses out - the painful pleasure not quite what she wants right now - right now she wants _just_ pleasure. He whispers an apology, switches to slightly less deep, quick thrusts, lets his wet fingers circle around and around her rear entrance as he murmurs to her how tight she is, how swollen, how she’s _such a good girl for taking his cock so hard_.

She’s dripping, drenching him, soaking her thighs and generally creating a mess with her desire, but she can’t stop, and every time she gets close to coming, he pulls back, or switches his pace, or stops entirely and runs his hands all over her. Regina wants to scream in frustration. Wants to murder him for teasing her. But her anticipation is so incredibly high right now that all it’s going to take is the exact right stroke, and she’s going to fly apart on him and bring him right over the edge with her.

She’s getting a little lightheaded as he slows behind her, but he’s got more in store for her, it seems, because he bends forward over her, gathers the long length of her raven hair in his hand, and pulls her up slowly.

“Hands on the rail, Your Majesty,” he rasps in her ear, and she’s so desperate now she doesn’t even think - just immediately does it.

“Mmm, that’s it,” he commends, then tightens his hold in her hair and tilts her head so he can suck and scrape his teeth along the side of her neck. And oh, _oh yes_ , that feels niiiiice.

He thrusts slow, deep, into her as he starts back up, pulling her head back softly so he can whisper to her, can lick the side of her neck and nip her earlobe in between thrusts. “I have never,” he thrusts deep, “in my life,” _thrust_ , “wanted to bury my cock in a woman,” _thrust_ , “as much as I want to bury mine in _you_.” He thrusts deep, deep, deep - keeps his pace steady and relentless in her.

A hot shiver rushes over her, her chest breaks out in gooseflesh and her nipples are painfully tight. She wants to rub them, wants to stroke her breasts but he’s ordered her hands against the rail and she somehow knows better than to move them, so instead she whispers, “Tell me.”

He moans, strokes her stomach with his free hand and sucks hot kisses against the corner of her jaw. He licks his way down the curve of her neck and nips the top of her shoulder before he moves back to her ear, then slides the hand on her stomach down, over her hip bone and further, finally sliding between her legs to rub her engorged clit.

“Knew you’d be needy,” he whispers, starts pressing slow circles against her clit, “Knew you’d be tight,” he growls, sucking the sensitive skin of her neck, and she whimpers. “Beg me for this cock,” he commands, thrusts deep and goes still, pulls her hair roughly until she gasps out, “ _Please,_ ” and he puts his lips right against her ear as he finishes with, “Now beg me to make you come in front of the peasants in the courtyard.” He keeps a tight hold on her hair and starts that hard, deep rhythm back up, snapping his hips hard into her as he scrapes his teeth against the side of her neck, licking and sucking at her as he flurries his fingers over her clit.

She moans loudly, not caring anymore who sees her, who hears her, she’s alight with her desire and she’s so close, so, so, so close if only he’ll speed up just a little, if only he’ll fuck her just a little harder.

She’s not going to beg him, she swears she’s not going to, because _fuck him_ , she is a queen and she doesn’t beg anyone. But it’s as if he knows this, knows that she’s resisting, because he picks up the pace, starts fucking into her harder, then faster, faster, until she’s shaking, breasts bouncing and jolting with his movements, and her breathing is completely out of control, she’s gasping and panting and can’t catch her breath. He's pulling her hair and it feels amazing, her clit is on fire as he rubs and rubs his fingers over her, gives her quick up and down strokes so fast she can’t stop from thrusting forward, then back, not knowing which pleasure she wants more - his cock or his fingers.

“Close, aren’t you?” he asks her breathlessly as he pounds into her, and she gasps out, “ _Almost - godddd - just like that,”_ as her clit throbs, the heat and desire starts to bloom and spread from her. She’s close, _jesus_ she’s close, any second, _god_ any second, and he says, “They’re all watching you - open your eyes and look,” and she can’t - _oh fuck -_ she can’t, because she’s going to come, she’s going to climax right-fucking-now regardless of who is watching her, and when he growls, “You want me to come inside of you, don’t you? Beg me to fill that tight little cunt to the brim,” something comes over her and she shrieks out _Yes!-oh-oh-god! Please!_ and shatters on him - loses control of everything, is moaning and crying out and clenching so hard on him as fluid rushes from her hot sex. He slips out with the force of her tremors and she feels herself gush more, _more_ , the hot liquid sliding down her inner thighs, but then he’s back inside of her, holding tight to her hips and fucking her _hard-hard-hard-hard_ as she spasms and shakes and tilts forward, clenching on him again as the pleasure sweeps through her, hands clinging to the railing to stop herself from falling down with the rush. His hips smack against her ass as she gasps for air, shivering and moaning still, her clit throbbing and sparks streaking through her, and then he gasps, moans loudly and says, “Oh _fuck_ ,” as he pulls out, steps back from her and comes on her lower back, her ass, spills all over her and slides his cock repeatedly through the cleft of her ass until he stops coming, then he slides his still-hard length back inside of her and lets her writhe on him some more as she trembles and moans with aftershocks.

 

For a second they’re still against each other, taking heaving breaths as they both shudder and make soft sounds of pleasure as they regroup. He recovers first - she feels him right himself, his softening cock slips out of her, and then she’s completely stunned as he sweeps his arm under her knees, wraps the other around her back and picks her up.

She can feel his legs shaking with his adrenaline rush as he walks, but he's strong and he carries her to her bed and lays her down gently in the middle. He hesitates, bites his lip as his brow furrows, scrubs his hands across his face roughly, but then he gives in to whatever he was fighting and climbs in on top of her, situating himself intimately between her thighs. He lays heavily against her, their heaving chests pressed together, skin on skin as he kisses her lips and strokes his fingers through her dark hair. He is so comfortable with her, hasn't shown a trace of fear or anxiety the entire time they've been doing, whatever it is they're doing, and there is something about his touch that is unusually comforting, familiar, so that when she would typically pull away she legitimately forgets to.

It’s completely the opposite of the lascivious activities they’ve just finished - he’s sweet and soothing as he props himself on his elbows and presses his hot body down on hers, murmuring to her like they’re lovers, as he tells her between kisses, _So perfect_ , and _Christ you're incredible._

Regina is finally, finally starting to come to her senses, her rational mind creeping back in, but she’s exhausted, is completely drained from their activities and probably dehydrated too, so she doesn’t say anything. She just kisses him back, strokes her tongue along his and sucks at his lips as he compliments her - whispers, _stunning_ as he kisses her top lip, sucks her bottom lip lightly, then presses soft, open-mouthed kisses across her jawline.  Regina hasn’t been touched like this - with gentleness, with thoughtfulness, with _reverence_ \- since Daniel. 

The familiar grief suddenly surges through her, she fights tears and she’s just about to pull back, to pull away but he beats her to it, gives her one last deep kiss then gets up, pulling her heavy duvet over her as he goes. He dresses quickly, doesn’t bother with half the buttons on his shirt as he frowns, his brow furrowed and movements jerky. He turns to her, and she’s half asleep already, so she barely hears him as he says, “My god, I’ve never… I think I finally understand… I...,” he trails off and disappears from her line of sight, and Regina drifts off to sleep wondering what the hell he was trying to say.

 

 


	6. The Agenda

  


Chapter Five - The Agenda 

 

Much to her chagrin, Regina can’t leave Graham locked up for too long. He still has a job she needs him to do, and every day, every hour, every minute that passes is another potential happy moment that Snow White steals from her. So she sets him loose, with a harsh reminder of his reality, of how she can and _will_ crush his heart in a second if he ever pulls shit like that again, and he vows to bring her the heart of the brat before the week is out.

The Huntsman has been gone for three days when her guards inform her of an intruder they have apprehended, of a man who asks to speak with her, _only_ her, and refuses to provide any additional information to them. They rightfully ask whether she’d like his head on a spike, or if she prefers the guillotine, but she’s in high spirits and has a good idea of who this intruder might be, so instead she has them bring him to her in the throne room so she can interrogate him herself.

Sure enough, within minutes, the infamous Robin Hood is thrown at her feet, and she has to fight the surge of arousal that his presence elicits.

Regina clears the room, and it empties quickly, they all know better than to argue with her, and then she has the man alone. She looks him over - he looks much the same as he did the night they spent together, perhaps a little more worn but no worse for wear as she rakes her gaze hotly across his body.

“I do not have time for trivial matters, so say what it is you came to say and be gone,” she keeps her voice tight and serious, betrays nothing of her interest in her face as she looks down at him from the high seat of her throne.

He looks slightly nervous as he straightens up a little, rubs his hand across his mouth before he says, “I have a favor to ask of you, Your Majesty.”

 

Annnnnd there it is. The agenda.

 

She knew he was too good to be true, but in spite of herself she’s intrigued, can’t think of anything he might want from her, especially since he’s already _had_ what is arguably the best of her, so she cocks her head and snaps, “Do get on with it - I haven’t got all day to entertain you, peasant.”

His face is serious as he looks at her respectfully, and she likes that, likes that he’s not trying to push her right now, likes that he can separate business and pleasure. He tilts his chin up a little as he says, “My wife has been murdered and my son kidnapped. I intend to strike vengeance upon my enemy, but require magical aid to accomplish this task. I respectfully ask for your assistance in this matter,” he ends by going down to one knee and bows his head.

Hmmm. She likes his obedience, but isn’t at all interested in helping him.

She narrows her eyes. “Why on earth would I waste my time on such an insignificant matter?”

He meets her eyes steadily and stays on his knee as he tells her, “In return, I will bring you the heart of Snow White, Your Majesty.”

Regina laughs, gives him a look like he’s a complete idiot as she snaps, “You should know as well as anyone that I’ve already sent my Huntsman to complete the deed. Your bargain is of no use to me.”

She starts to turn away but he calls out to her, vows that he will do it, challenging that he can beat the Huntsman to the girl's heart. Regina looks back at him, and has to admit that she’s curious about him. The deal he’s attempting to strike is an impossible task at this point. The Huntsman has a huge head start, knows exactly what he’s looking for, has her resources at his disposal, and she has full confidence that he will deliver her prize.

With that knowledge, however, Regina also figures that she really doesn’t have anything to lose by accepting his bargain, for even if he manages to beat the Huntsman, there isn’t a damn thing he can do to make her honor her end of the deal, which she has absolutely no intention of doing. And what harm can it do to have two handsome rogues go after that wretched, elusive girl?

“Who is your enemy?” she asks calmly, “Who murdered your wife and stole your precious child, and what motivation was behind it?” She might be aroused by him but she’s certainly not fooled - he’s still holding back, still not giving her the whole story.

“During a routine cargo inspection, I found myself in the possession of a special artifact, an Enchanted Bow,” he says quietly, looking her in the eyes, “In retribution the owner sought me out, and when she was unable to put an end to me, she killed my wife and took my son - for what purpose, I do not know.”

Regina narrows her eyes at him. “Cargo inspection?” she says sarcastically, “Surely you must mean, routine _highway robbery_ , for that is what you’re known for, is it not, ‘Prince of Thieves’?”

He bites his lip and at least has the sense to look a little abashed at his blatant misrepresentation of information. His brow furrows, his eyes dark as he says, “Yes, Your Majesty, my apologies - for that is what I meant.”

“And the identity of this person?” she asks, patience starting to run thin. She’s wasting time with this man, there is no reason for her to even entertain this notion, but something in her tells her to wait, to hear him out, so she does - balls her hands into fists and stares him down as she waits for him to answer.

He visibly steels himself before her, and a chill runs down Regina’s spine as he says, “To some she is the sorceress known as the Queen of Hearts, but in this land, her most familiar title appears to be simply, the Queen’s Mother.”

She can’t stop the scowl from crossing her features, cannot stop the instant fear and anger that rises within her at the mention of her mother. “My mother was banished from this realm years ago. What makes you think I will believe such lies?” she challenges.

He bristles at her tone, eyes flashing angry at her as he looks around quickly before he says quietly, “Because just before I relieved your mother of the bow, I held a small, velvet pouch in my hand - a pouch that pulsed against my fingers, within which lies something I believe to be very dear to _your heart_ , Your Majesty.”

Regina’s eyes go wide. There is no way that he could have known this without having seen her heart, without having seen Cora himself. Her mind is instantly made up, for what choice does she have? She _must_ get her heart back before her mother uses it against her.

Regina rises from her throne and steps up to him slowly, feeling predatory as she sweeps her gaze over him. Even in the light of day he’s extremely attractive, and she wishes it were late, wishes her heart was safe and sound, wishes she didn’t have an entire afternoon full of responsibilities that she must attend to. She decides to let him try for Snow White, if only for the increased chance at killing the girl before Regina must face off with her mother, so she holds her hand out to his and says, “Robin Hood, if you can bring me the heart of Snow White before the Huntsman delivers it to me, I will lend you my aid on your quest for vengeance.”

His eyes light up with disbelief as he takes her hand and brushes a kiss to the back of it, his eyes hot on hers and a barely hidden smirk written across his features. She catches the look - wonders what game he’s playing with her, how he intends to manipulate this to his advantage, because he _clearly_ intends to, but he holds his gaze steady on hers until the moment stretches too long to be considered appropriate anymore, and she stalks off quickly, has her guards drag him from her castle grounds without so much as a backward glance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

All is quiet for an entire week, and Regina is on edge. She has heard nothing from her spies, nothing from her Huntsman, and nothing from her… from Robin. She's missing her heart, _and_ Snow White's heart, and if she doesn't get _someone's_ godforsaken heart soon she's going to start ripping them from every living being that crosses her path. It is beyond frustrating that she is _this close_ to exacting her revenge on Snow White, _this close_ to avenging Daniel's death, but she could be forced to destroy everything when her mother finally unveils her intentions. She needs to get her heart back, and she needs to get it back _now_.

She's worked up and irritable, _still_ feels as if she’s being watched, and nothing she does seems to help. She hasn't had her heart in her chest in years, is used to her emotions being dulled, but she feels more paranoid than usual, cannot shake the feeling that she’s being followed, and cannot find the source of the annoyance.

An emphatic pounding on the heavy wooden door startles Regina out of her thoughts, and she rises quickly to answer, trying not to let herself be hopeful - hope is for fools, for _heroes_ , and she is neither. She swings the door wide, and when she comes face to face with her Huntsman, there is nothing she can do to stop the smile from breaking across her beautiful face.

He looks proud, looks completely full of himself as he holds a small, wooden box in both hands and grins at her.

Regina steps back quickly, allows him to enter the vault and has to calm herself a little before she speaks. If he has what she thinks he has in that box, he is going to be the most well-rewarded Huntsman this realm has ever seen.

“Tell me you have it,” she hisses, twisting her fingers in her excitement.

Graham smirks, his face handsome and confident as he presents the box to her, flips open the lid and says proudly, “As promised, Your Majesty, the heart of Snow White.”

As she looks at the bright pink heart, a thrill runs through her, and she could cry out with joy, could jump up and down, could pull Graham to her and kiss his stupid face with the elation she feels. She reaches for the heart, her fingers shaking with the knowledge that she has finally bested the girl - she is going to crush Snow White’s heart, just like Daniel’s heart was crushed - and then she will finally, _finally_ be able to walk this earth with some sense of fairness.

As her fingers near the box, the Huntsman suddenly snaps the lid shut, steps back and grabs a lit torch - holds it close to the edge of the smooth wood and says, “Not so fast.”

“What are you doing?!” she shrieks, first stepping toward him then pulling back sharply as he brings the flame closer to the box in threat. “GIVE IT TO ME!” she screams, pure rage overcoming every sensible thought she could have. She will KILL HIM. She will tear him limb from limb. She will skin him alive and feed him to the crows for this treachery.

“A heart for a heart!” he exclaims, taking another step back, “The return of my heart, in exchange for the heart of the girl!”

That ungrateful, self-inflated, worthless bastard. He thinks to force her hand? He thinks he can bargain with the devil?

Regina creates a fireball in her palm, looks him square in the eye and says menacingly, “I can torch that box as readily as you, my dear. Give me what is mine and I may yet let you live.”

“But you won’t -” he cuts in, obstinate and angry, “You’ve waited years for this moment - I’ve watched you obsess, I’ve watched you _pine_ for it. You want to crush her heart so badly you can taste it on your forked tongue. Give me my heart, witch, and I will hand over your prize.”

 

The bitch of it is, he’s right.

 

She could absolutely throw the fireball and torch both Graham and Snow White’s heart. But it would be so much less satisfying than what she has imagined for all of these painful, tortured years. She deserves to crush the heart. She has earned it. Has bled for it. Has suffered more than anyone could ever imagine, even beyond the death of Daniel. She has _survived_ merely for this moment - has suffered through an abusive, hateful, jealous mother who gave her more scars, emotional and otherwise, than she can bear to admit; has suffered through a forced marriage to a lecherous old man who violated her constantly, who used her as little more than a prostitute as he desecrated her youth and stripped her of every ounce of dignity; has survived false motherhood to an ungrateful, hateful child who went out of her way to destroy what little hope of happiness Regina had left in her soul.

She refuses to miss out on this moment because of some peasant that she doesn’t give two fucks about anyway.

So she takes a deep, steadying breath, blows out the fireball and forces her face to relax into a calm facade as she steps back from him, turns and reaches into box number eighty-three and retrieves the heart he so yearns for.

She holds it up to the light, making a little show of inspecting it as she turns back to him. “A heart, for a heart, Huntsman - you have a deal.” She walks toward him, holding it out for him to see.

“How do I know that’s mine? How do I know this isn’t more of your trickery?” he snaps, eyes blazing in the torchlight.

Regina smirks, nods at the thumping, glowing muscle as she tells him, “Hold it in your palm, you will know, deep in your chest, if it is yours or not.”

Graham stuffs the torch into his armpit and reaches out for his heart, takes it into his hand, and she can see the relief wash over his face. It truly is his heart - Regina honestly doesn’t care what he does with himself. She only cares to have what is rightfully hers.

“Now give me the heart of Snow White,” she growls, “Or I will order the destruction of every single filthy, disgusting, useless wolf in my kingdom.”

Graham startles at her threat, his eyes plainly showing his fear of her, and he steps back, still holding his heart out a bit triumphantly in front of him.

 

Suddenly, there is a loud _ >thwack!< _ and Regina jumps with the sound, watches in shock as an arrow slices straight through Graham’s heart, killing him instantly, then embeds in the wall beyond. She watches as Graham’s eyes go wide, then empty, as his body collapses awkwardly to the ground, the torch, the box with Snow White’s heart, and his own destroyed heart both falling from his hands as his life is snuffed out in front of her.

 

She snaps her gaze to the doorframe, one hand raised with a fireball ignited, ready to kill the intruder or at least deflect the next arrow, but it doesn’t come.

And then Robin Hood steps out of the shadows, holding up his hand in a peace offering and lowering his shortbow as he strides toward her, his voice light and carefree as he says, “Apologies, Milady, I did not mean to startle you.”

 

Jesus. Yet _another_ interruption. Regina doesn’t care to see him, doesn’t want to talk to him right now. All she wants is to crush Snow White’s stupid heart. Is that so much to ask?

 

“Why are you here?” she snaps, eyes turning to the floor to seek the wooden box.

“Well, I made you a promise, Your Majesty - to deliver you the heart of Snow White before the Huntsman,” he reminds. He casually walks into the room, and she furrows her brow at him as he quickly comes closer. He sweeps by her and retrieves the box, holds it out to her as he bows his head and says with a cocky smirk, “And here it is, as promised.”

She snatches the box, pulls it in close to her chest the way a child hoards a prized possession, and steps back quickly from him.

“How did you know?” she asks, suspicious. “How did you know the Huntsman had returned with the heart?”

Robin chuckles softly, shrugs his shoulders and says, “To be honest, Your Majesty, I shared your confidence that your man would get the job done, so it really was just a matter of timing on my end.” He smirks at her and she feels a little stunned with the revelation - he never left the castle. That's why she has felt like she's being watched the past few days. He was here the whole time, lurking about and keeping an eye on her while the Huntsman did the dirty work.

 

The clever bastard.

 

“So you're nothing more than an opportunist?” she huffs, annoyed that she didn't think of his loophole.

“Absolutely,” he says seriously, then sweeps his eyes over her hotly as he licks his lips. It sends a surge of arousal through her that makes her swallow hard, makes her clench in remembrance of the satisfaction he gave to her.

He cocks his head, studying her for a moment, then nods to the box and says carefully, “Would you prefer to do this alone? Or would you mind having a witness to your victory, Milady?”

Regina brings her eyes, which had dropped to stare longingly at the box, up to his, and suddenly she’s not sure what she wants. She’s envisioned this moment at least a thousand times, how Snow’s heart would feel in her hand, how satisfying it would be as she squeezed, how beautiful the ash would feel as it slipped through her fingers. But she never thought much about the rest - would she do it alone? With an audience? With her advisors and most decorated guards?

 

She’s... not sure.

 

Regina looks hard at Robin for a moment. He isn’t a good man, isn’t true and virtuous, and she’s glad for that, realizes that she absolutely does not want to be surrounded by a bunch of pious suck ups in her moment of sweet victory.

She lets her gaze shift about the small room, acknowledges that she doesn't have anyone she would want to experience this with, no one living, that is. Daddy, Daniel - anyone who ever loved her or was kind to her is dead.

When she brings her eyes back to Robin's, she is relieved that his gaze is devoid of pity - she hates pity more than she hates hope, and she is _anything_ but pitiful. She is strong. Capable. Powerful.

He clears his throat and takes a small, slow step closer to her as he says, his voice quiet, “Might I observe?” Regina eyes him suspiciously, and he amends, “I have never seen a heart turned to ash, Your Majesty, and must admit that my interest is piqued.”

She wonders what his angle is - it is certainly an odd request for him to make, but then, she's already established that he is not a conventional type of man. And she agrees that it might actually be more satisfying to do this with another person present, if only for the witness to support that she did complete this task that has eluded her for so many years.

She nods, opens the box without further delay, and pulls out the heart. As she palms it, flexing her fingers and feeling the thickness of the muscle, she can’t help but revel in the relief that washes through her. She knows with absolute certainty, can feel it deep down in what is left of her soul, that this truly is Snow White’s heart. A thousand terrible memories come rushing at her, and her eyes burn, she suddenly feels lightheaded, sways a little on her feet and sucks in a deep breath to calm the emotions that threaten to break through. She feels the hot, embarrassing tears slide from her eyes as she fights down the old, familiar pain, and is instantly regretful of her decision to let the Thief watch. She takes several more deep breaths until she is steady again, then lifts her head and realizes that Robin is closer to her now, his brow furrowed in what looks like confusion as he watches her face closely. She feels that unusual familiarity again as she stares back at him, into his bright blue eyes, and she calms under his scrutiny. Then she turns back and finally does something she thought she may never do.

 

Regina finally, _finally_ , crushes Snow White’s heart to ash.

 

The small, fine particles slip through her fingers, she shudders under the heavy emotions flooding her veins, and she can feel herself smile, can feel relief cascading through her as she finally experiences this significant moment. She thinks of Daniel’s face, of the sweet words and touches he gave to her, of the tiny slice of happiness she experienced with him, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight, lets herself remember his soft kisses and the way he held her, the way he pleasured her on the last night they made love together.

“Well done,” Robin says quietly, and her thoughts shift to him, to this moment he will forever be a part of as she stares triumphantly down at the small pile of ash, and when he tucks a lock of her dark hair behind her ear and murmurs, “Long live the Queen,” she snaps her eyes to his. He’s completely serious, is looking at her with this impressed look of astonishment, and she has no idea how to handle it, is confused and overwhelmed by the moment, so she throws caution to the wind, grabs him by the lapels, and kisses him.

 

 


	7. The Alliance

 

 

Chapter Six - The Alliance 

  


Regina can count on one hand the number of times she’s been high. She doesn’t make a habit of inebriating herself - when one holds the power that she does, she must keep her wits about her at all times. On the few occasions she partook in such deviant practices, she was desperate, fraught with anxiety, or night terrors, or insomnia that went on for so long she thought she might actually die from exhaustion.

She’s not high right now. She _knows_ she’s not.

 

But she feels like she is.

 

Snow White is dead - her perfect, incorruptible heart crushed to ash between Regina’s fingers, a decade of grief and strife finally put to rest within the span of a few seconds.

She imagines if she was in possession of her own heart, that it might be close to soaring right now. It might fill with satisfaction, with pride and relief. Even without the muscle Regina still feels incredible, feels accomplished and satiated, feels like she’s had a bit too much herb so that her vision is almost blurry, and her body feels light, like she’s floating.

She backs the Thief - for that’s what he is, nothing more than a common thief - up against the wall that stores the many hearts of her enemies, pressing herself tightly to him as she sucks his bottom lip between her teeth. He’s so warm, so solid beneath her hands, and she leans heavily against him, soaking him in. Her senses feel heightened, and she rubs herself on him as she kisses him, slips her tongue into his mouth and slides her hands up to frame his face. She feels frantic, her lips moving fast and hard against his, tilting her head this way, then that, then back again, nipping and pulling as he moans, his hands holding tightly to her ribcage and fingers flexing hard against her corset. She pulls back for a second, breathing heavily, and she laughs - the action unexpected and unstoppable as she looks at him.

 

His right cheek has a perfect, Regina-sized handprint from where her ash covered fingers clutched him to her.

 

He gives her a strange look, tilting his head to the side as he licks his lips, and she wants to continue their rendezvous, wants him to use that clever tongue to get her off like he did last week. She deserves it, deserves to feel all the happiness her broken soul can manage today.

She leans back into him, intent on making that happen, but Robin holds her waist, keeps her back from him so that he can look into her eyes as he says, “I hate to interrupt this, but my son is in danger and time is of the essence - will you honor our bargain, Your Majesty?”

 

Way to kill the mood, Thief.

 

What an idiot.

 

Regina scowls at him as she says, “You’re really going to ask me that _right_ _now_?”

To his credit, he at least looks regretful, but suddenly his face twists in pure agony as the queen thrusts her hand through his chest, grabs a hold of his heart, and tears it from him.

She steps back quickly, the enchanted, throbbing organ hot against her palm. It’s streaked with black, but there is quite a bit of red too, like he hasn’t quite decided if he’s a hero or villain, so maybe he tries to be a little of both. The contradictory story his heart tells, paired with what she knows of him, makes her smirk.

“You know,” she says quietly, stroking her thumb along his heart as he stares at her, “If you’d have just waited a few more minutes, we _both_ could have had some fun before you died.”

He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she notices the lack of fear in his eyes. So she squeezes his heart  _hard_ \- he gasps in pain and ahhh - _there it is_.

“Surely you can relate to the urgency with which I seek my vengeance, Your Majesty,” he says, his words clipped and quiet as she plays with his heart.

“Silly Thief,” she says, grinning wickedly, “Did you actually think I was going to help you?”

He says irritably, “Of course not.”

 

Regina’s brows shoot up, and he’s surprised her with this admission. “No?” she asks, curious.

 

“I’m not quite so naive, Your Majesty,” he says, sounding annoyed, “I have information that is of great value to you,” he continues, “But I must insist on your word before I divulge it, for I cannot save my son without your help.”

She’s starting to get annoyed - the man just doesn’t understand that she could care less about his little quest. She starts squeezing his heart, intent on killing him - tired of him, tired of this. He’s sucked all the enjoyment right out of the room, and it’s such a pity, she would have loved to have had him one more time, but now he seems to be more trouble than he’s worth.

Robin drops to his knees as she tightens her fingers, and he cries out in pain, but she’s a bit lost in her thoughts, isn’t really paying him any attention until he gasps, “I know where Cora is!”

Regina stops squeezing his heart immediately, temper flaring. “Where?” she snaps.

“Promise me,” he growls, a bit breathless.

“ANSWER ME!” she yells, and she’s not playing games, she’ll fucking kill him. Regina gets right up in his face, towers over him and grabs him roughly by the chin as her dark eyes drill into him.

His face is flushed and he’s sweating with the pain she has him in, is panting as he grasps at his empty chest on his knees before her. She thinks he's being a bit dramatic, but she loosens her grip on his heart anyway, lets him catch his breath as the pain stops.

“Do I have your word, Your Majesty?” he demands, and she can’t believe she’s going to do it, she’s going to acquiesce and she’s going to mean it, because if he knows where her stupid heart is there is a chance she may need his particular skill set to get it back.

“Yes,” she hisses angrily, “Yes, you have my word, Thief - now TELL ME!” She is out of patience.

“My heart, if you please,” he says quietly, meeting her furious stare. He’s lost the fear again, and it irks Regina. Why is it she cannot seem to terrorize him?

She gives in yet _again_ , but only because he’s playing his cards just right - she needs his information and he knows it. She steps forward quickly and jams the organ back into his chest, and he makes a loud _oomph_ as she pulls her hand out.

“Sherwood Forest,” he says softly as he stands, and her temper continues to rise. She _knew_ it. _Knew_ that the rumors were true.

Regina opens her mouth to interrogate him further, but he cuts her off as he says, “I know where she is and I have a good idea of where she’s keeping your heart - if the two of us work together, I am certain that I can steal it back for you,” he says quickly, “But as I said, I cannot take her on alone, I must have your alliance in this.”  
  
“How do you know all this?” Regina growls. “Why should I trust you?”

“I was born and raised in Sherwood,” Robin replies, “My connections there are vast, and I know the Manor in which Cora has taken up residence like the back of my hand, as I have pilfered it on many an occasion.” He pauses, his eyes sweeping across Regina’s face as he takes a deep breath, steps toward her as he says confidently, “If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, I might point out that you need my help in this as much as I need yours.”

Regina’s temper flares at his statement but quickly abates - she thinks over his words, his actions, his motives. Robin’s story is logical, and if she's being honest, she _does_ need his help. Her mother is powerful, cunning, and wicked to her core. Regina may be the Evil Queen but she still fears Cora, has experienced the excruciating pain brought on by her mother's selfish agenda time and time again, and she is truly afraid of what Cora has planned for her heart. _Any_ help she can get in this is help that she should accept.

“Help me,” he says - not begging - asking as if he is her equal. “Help me save my son and I will retrieve your heart,” his voice is soft as he finishes, eyes sincere on hers.

The queen stares at him hard, chewing over her options and seeing no other way around it. She doesn’t know where Cora is, has little familiarity with Sherwood Forest, cannot trust anyone with the knowledge of her missing heart, and beyond all else, she _needs_ her heart back.

“We will not fail,” he says softly, stepping toward her as he reaches for her, slides his hand around the side of her neck and tugs her closer to him. She lets him pull her in, thrown off again by his complete lack of fear, and she goes very still as he weaves his fingers through the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. “Together we can take back what rightfully belongs to us, we can bring retribution to those who have wronged us,” he whispers.

Those are bold statements to make to anyone, but especially to Regina. She has been failed by everyone she has ever put her faith in, so she’s learned not to do it, to keep her trust to herself and never depend on anyone unless she absolutely has to. There is something about him - something that stirs things in her that she isn't quite ready to acknowledge. He is unafraid of her, confident, and familiar in a way she doesn’t feel with anyone else. Regina is comfortable in his presence, and when they speak it’s easy, she doesn't feel quite so paranoid, doesn't spend every second pulling his words apart to discover the motives underneath. She has to admit that there are many things she likes about this man - he is handsome, clever, and loyal to his broken family, and who better than Regina can relate to his desperation for vengeance, who better can relate to the devastation caused at Cora's hand?

Robin's fingers rub softly against her neck as he waits patiently for her answer, and it’s nice, so soft and gentle that she can't help but be calmed by it. She tilts her head, takes a deep breath, and meets Robin's gaze as she reluctantly agrees.

 

 


	8. The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - references/implications of past abuse

 

 

Chapter Seven - The Nightmare 

 

 

“Is that really what you're wearing?” he asks, and along with the obvious appreciation in his eyes, she also sees amusement.

Regina walks quickly to her mount, taking a bite of the dark red apple she holds, as she ignores the Thief and fights her self-satisfied smirk from making an appearance.

“I mean, _Christ_ ,” he says softly behind her, and he's closer than she thought he was, must have followed her over to her big horse. She reaches up for the saddle horn but thinks again, turns sharply and he's right up in her space, her chest inches from his as she tilts her face up, chewing carefully.

“Do you object to my choice of wardrobe?” she asks, challenging him. “Perhaps I should wear a dress, fetch my side saddle, or even better, my carriage? Why not host an entire royal entourage through Sherwood Forest?” Her sarcasm grows as she speaks - she's used to being looked at, dresses exactly for that purpose much of the time, but there's something about the way Robin looks at her in this outfit, something she doesn't consider all that sexy to begin with, that has her a little jumpy.

He grins at her as she mocks him, wraps his fingers around her wrist and brings her apple up to his mouth. He takes a large bite, chewing slowly and licking his lips, biting down on the bottom one, as he lets his eyes run up and down her body. Regina narrows her eyes and pulls her hand away, and he puts his hands up in front of him in surrender as he steps back. Regina panics, so confused by how at ease he seems to be in her presence, immediately turns and hoists herself up into the saddle of the big Friesen.

“I've absolutely no objection, Your Majesty,” he says softly, and she glances down at him from her high seat. “Quite the contrary, I don't think I've ever seen leather pants look quite so good,” he grins again, let's his gaze sweep over her, and says, “Has anyone ever told you that black is your color?”

She wants to smile. He's obnoxious, but his compliments seem genuine, his appreciation of her body is blatant, and there's something about the idea that this simple outfit turns him on so much when he's seen her in beautiful rich fabrics _and_ completely bare, that makes her chest flutter.

She isn’t wearing anything special, just black pants, a long black tunic that has chainmail woven into the skirt for a little extra protection, the bodice tight and a bit low cut because she _is_ the Evil Queen and she will use _all_ of her assets to her advantage, and it's not like she has a heart to protect anyway. She's wearing long, fingerless gloves that reach above the elbow, knee-high boots, and a shimmery black cape that she enchanted long ago to self-heat. She pulled her hair up this morning, swept her long bangs to the side and braided both sides back into a low, messy bun to keep it out of the way. She's got her short sword strapped to her hip, a dagger down her boot, and for all intents and purposes, she thinks she looks very rogue-like.

“Afraid I won't blend in, Thief?” She snaps as she swings the black horse around, right at him, so that he has to jump back or get stepped on, and she hears him chuckle softly as she walks her horse out, hears him mutter, “With looks like that, you haven’t a chance of blending in, Milady.”

Her back is to him, so she finally lets the smile break free, digs in her heels, and they're off.

 

 

* * *

  
  


“Tell me about your son.”

 

She requests this of him with a casualness that almost makes her cringe. Perhaps it is her own black heart that takes her empathy from her, or perhaps she truly doesn’t care, but the journey has been boring so far, and she’s hoping for a distraction that will help the time pass faster.

They’ve been riding for three days, breaking at night for a few hours rest but putting in a hard ride otherwise, and according to Robin they are still another five days journey from Cora’s new residence. They’ve been mostly silent during the trip, both wrapped up in their own issues, and Regina is unused to the tranquility and quiet of the forest. It’s calm, and peaceful, the sway of her war horse, Noctis, is comforting and it all makes her think back to when she almost ran away with Daniel - reminds her of quiet nights in the stable, wrapped up with him in his cloak as they cuddled in the hay loft, kissing and touching and experimenting; whispering excitedly about their plans for the meager life they would make. It hurts, even without her heart, makes her feel raw and exposed, and she thinks she might actually go mad if she can’t get her mind on something else.

A few minutes pass and when the Thief says nothing, she figures she’s crossed some sort of personal line. She doesn’t care to push, doesn’t care _at all_ , so she goes back to her thoughts, trying now to recall the words to some of her less favored spells. The activity takes her mind off of Daniel, off of the Thief, and she’s just dreaming up the next spell to recite when he says softly, “His name is Roland, named after my late cousin,” he clears his throat before he says thickly, “He’s five years old, has his mother’s dark curls and eyes, but my smile, my temperament.”

She nods, picturing what the child might look like, committing it to memory in case she needs to know when they confront Cora.

“How did you meet your wife?” she asks, not sure why she’s bothering, the woman is dead, so what does it matter?

Robin hesitates again, but is quicker to respond this time. “I wasn’t always an outlaw,” he says quietly, “as a boy my family was rather well off, actually. My father and his brother were quite successful in the importation of rare goods. Business was profitable for a time, but when my cousin died, my uncle was inconsolable with his grief. We all were. Business turned from good, to bad, to ruin in the span of a few months, and it took more than four years for my father and I to turn things around.” He pauses, and Regina lets her eyes travel over him, more interested in his story than she cares to admit. “Once we were back on our feet, my father and I couldn’t seem to agree on much, and after arguing for what must have been the thousandth time, my father stated he didn’t care to see me anymore. So I left, ran off with a young maiden I’d recently become infatuated with - Marian - and Roland was born rather… quickly thereafter.” He smirks at her and she looks away to hide her smile, well aware of his alluring charm and sexual prowess - if Regina couldn’t resist him, Marian never stood a chance.

“It was a rough few years,” he admits, “I love my son, loved his mother, but… am not certain Marian and I were as well suited for one another as we initially thought.”

Regina’s interest increases. “Why not?” she asks before she can help it.

“Marian was truthful, righteous, and good, through and through. She wanted me to work things out with my family, to give us the life my father had intended for me, but I…” he pauses, furrows his brow and looks down at his hands, “I am prone to carrying a grudge. Can’t seem to let go of past misdeeds without proper retribution,” his voice is quiet but deadly serious as he speaks, and Regina believes him, understands him. “Before she left me this past year, she said that she shouldn’t have to compete with the sins of the past for my attention, said she wanted to spend her time with the man I should be, not the man I was forcing myself to be, and I could bugger off until I figured that out.”

“She obviously didn’t understand the effect that loss and broken trust can have on a person,” Regina snaps, and the second it’s out of her mouth she regrets it. It sounds judgemental and accusatory even to her own ears, and she cannot imagine what he must think of her for judging his dead wife so harshly.

 

Not that she cares what he thinks of her.

 

Because she doesn’t.

 

She wishes she had just kept her mouth shut and let the silence drive her insane.

But then he laughs, and she brings her gaze back to him only to see him grinning broadly at her.

“My god, woman, you’ve absolutely no filter, have you?” he says, rolling his eyes at her.

Against her better judgement, she smiles back and admits, “I’m afraid not - it’s the one thing my mother couldn’t quite beat out of me.” And then she cringes, wishes she could slap herself.

Since when does she share personal information with this man? Since when does she share personal information with _anyone_? She grits her teeth and kicks her horse lightly to escape whatever look he’s giving her - she can’t look at him, is too embarrassed, and again wishes she had kept her mouth shut.

He catches up easily enough, and when their horses are neck and neck again, he says, “Marian had never experienced loss, had no idea what it can do to your soul to lose someone you love, to have your entire life turned upside down in the course of a few seconds.”

“Have you seen your father, since you left?” she asks, wanting to know more about his family, wondering if she’s ever heard of them.

He cringes, rubs his jaw then responds, “No,” his voice is low and thick, his eyes hot as he locks them with hers, “He died a few months after Roland was born, and I was too angry, too ashamed, to go back.”

She meets his look, understanding him in a way that she is positive very few others would. Her relationship with her mother has always been tumultuous, but Regina loved her father dearly, even when they didn’t agree on things. She regrets not understanding that better when he was still alive, regrets not being able to appreciate him in spite of his many faults.

Robin’s eyes suddenly turn less serious, he quirks up one corner of his mouth as he interrupts her thoughts and quips, “I don’t imagine that King John felt regret when he learned his brother had been slain while he was off fighting in those godforsaken Crusades, do you?”

Regina smirks because no, she doesn’t suppose John feels any regret over the death of Richard, for it gave him the power he always yearned for without having to dirty his hands in the slightest. Regina nods her head a little and has to admit that that was smooth - a nice transition out of a discussion she never should have started. She appreciates Robin’s ability to pull them out of such an intense subject, and the ride goes a little easier from then on as their discussion moves to purposefully non-personal topics.

 

It turns out they have more than a lust for vengeance in common. Even before learning his family had been well off, Regina could tell that Robin is educated, could tell from the way he talks, the way he addresses her, that he is not a peasant, despite her name calling and his shabby clothes. He is well versed in literature and art, politics and war, horsemanship, archery, forestry, and a variety of other topics that she’s actually a little impressed by. It’s refreshing to speak with a man of intelligence when she so often feels like she’s surrounded by idiots, and she has to admit that she enjoys their easy conversation.

It’s late when they decide to camp for the night, and she’s tired but somehow more at ease than she has been in what seems like years. He makes her feel comfortable, and she’s starting to accept it, starting to grow fond of the feeling.

Robin sets up their little tents and bedrolls, and when he asks, Regina lights the brush he gathered for a cook fire. They've been careful so far, have not had a fire so as to remain a bit more hidden, but Robin is familiar with this area and tells her he is certain they will not be seen. They have a hot meal of assorted veg and a nice sized duck that Robin took earlier in the day with his longbow; an impressive shot through the brush at over a hundred yards that Regina was sure he would miss. His skill at archery is certainly unmatched, and she couldn't help but grant him a small smile and congratulations when he retrieved the bird and his arrow.

It's dark this evening, no moon and a heavy covering of clouds so that not even the stars are visible. Regina turns in early, her body tired, and in spite of the stress she still feels over the loss of her heart, her mind is quiet and calm.

  


 

* * *

 

  


She's having the _Daniel_ dream again.

 

She knows it's a dream, knows that it isn't real, that Daniel is long since dead, but that doesn't stop the fear from rising, the scream from tearing from her lungs as she watches her own hand rise, red magic swirling around her fingertips as she reaches for him. It doesn't stop the terror from flooding through her as her mother commands her, _do it - Do It, Regina - DO IT YOU STUPID GIRL!_ Against her will, her hand thrusts forward into his chest, and she can feel his heat, can feel his pulse beneath her fingertips as she grasps his heart. She tries to stop, fights with everything she has but it’s not enough, it’s never enough, and she feels herself rip his heart violently from him as he screams in agony. She hears herself begging like a child, because she _was_ a child, begging for Daniel's life, swearing she'll _do anything_ if only Cora will let him live, to _please, please_ don't make her do this, to _spare him_ because she _loves him_ so, so much.

Regina knows that _she_ didn't tear out Daniel's heart, that _she_ didn't crush it to ash - no, those were her horrid mother's actions, so in many ways the dream is worse than the reality. She can feel Daniel's blood dripping off her fingers, the hot, thick liquid running up her arm to the elbow as her mother's magic forces her to squeeze, harder, harder, harder - Daniel's face going pale as he locks his beautiful blue eyes with hers, begging her to stop, asking _Why are you doing this?_ and pleading _I thought you loved me!_

She can hear Snow White giggling next to her mother, the two of them grinning and laughing madly as the life slowly, painfully seeps from Daniel. Regina screams again, _NO MOTHER NO!_ and tries to stop, tries in vain to release Daniel's pure, perfect heart - she knows she can't, knows the dream won't allow it - but she tries anyway, fails as always.

Daniel’s heart turns to ash - hot, burning powder in her hand as he dies, his blue eyes filming over sickly white as she screams again, screams his name, and she tries to release what is left of his destroyed heart but can’t. The particles cling to her like tar, sticky and scalding, the pain unbearable as it blackens her hand, and she swipes frantically at it with her other hand, trying desperately to wipe it off. It spreads then, contaminates that hand too and she panics as dark streaks run up her arms, discoloring her golden skin as it spreads higher, higher - forearms to biceps to collarbones to finally pool in her chest, where the blackness blooms, shocks through and forces her down to her hands and knees.

Leopold materializes in front of her, and Regina tries to brace her dream-self, tries to stand but knows she won't be able to as the old man strikes her, rains heavy, punishing blows down on her, blood flowing from her nose and the split in her upper lip as he beats her. The crimson liquid runs into her eyes and she can’t see, can’t breathe, is drowning in her own blood as she tries to gasp for air. He moves behind her, and she knows what's coming, starts screaming and screaming and screaming, her voice drowned out by the laughter of her mother and Snow as she feels his disgusting hands on her naked flesh, here it comes - _no, please no_ \- she squeezes her eyes shut and -

 

Regina jerks awake, thank God, _thank God_ , she sits up quickly but she's disoriented, and when she opens her eyes Daniel is there, his blue eyes staring right into hers - she sobs his name, “Daniel!” breaks into tears, shock rocking her as she grabs his face between her hands, but his skin isn't smooth, it's rough, and Daniel never had a beard - this isn't right. She slams her eyes shut and hears her name, _Regina, wake up - it's alright - it's a dream,_ **_Regina wake up._ **

She pulls back quickly, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes harshly as her senses slowly return. Her eyes are wet and swollen, as they always are when she has this nightmare, and she takes a deep, shaking breath to try to stabilize herself. She finally opens her eyes and recognizes Robin, fear and concern written plainly across his face as he kneels next to her, holding her tightly by her upper arms as he silently stares at her.

Her breath catches in her throat - she's never, _ever_ , woken up from this terror to the comfort of another person. She has always handled this on her own, and she doesn't know what to do, isn't sure if she wants to pull him close or push him away, doesn't know what he's offering her by being here, so she does neither - buries her face in her trembling hands instead as the fear and panic continue to surge through her. She feels his hand slide to her back, warm and soft between her shoulders, and when he tells her, “Regina, _breathe,"_ she sucks in gasping breaths that shudder violently out of her into the cool night air.

“ _Jesus bloody Christ_ ,” he whispers, and she feels him shift closer to her, his knees bumping her thigh as his hand rubs a little harder across her back. “Now that's a fucking night terror, if I ever heard one,” he states softly.

She wonders what he heard, wonders if she was screaming out loud, and she must have been, because he has no other reason to be shirtless, shoeless, in her tent, has no other reason to look quite as concerned as he does, as he watches her in the dim light of the small lantern that's burning. She drops her head down further, her long dark hair hiding her face from him as she rubs her shaking fingers across her cheeks and over her brow, trying to collect herself, knowing she won't be able to for some time - it always takes her forever to calm after this dream. It cuts her open, right to her core, stretches her soul tight so that she feels like it could snap her in half, the strain unbearable, bending her spine with the effort to stay upright. She's made her most terrible, violent decisions after waking from this particular nightmare, and it's not an excuse, but it at least allows her some understanding in the quiet aftermath of her destruction, allows her to accept the violence of her decisions as she is reminded that she was not born a monster, but a monster she was made.

She has other recurring nightmares, but this by far is the worst of them. This dream exemplifies the absolute horror of her life, the destruction and terror invoked by everyone who was supposed to love her, everyone who was supposed care for her - boyfriend, mother, husband, step-daughter.

“What can I do, Regina?” Robin whispers to her, tucking some of her dark locks behind her ear with a gentleness she thinks he might use with his son. He’s close to her, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, she sees that beautiful blue again and immediately has to look away to block out her yearning for Daniel. Robin's hand slides up her back to rub at the nape of her neck, and he says quietly, “ _Jesus_ , you're trembling so hard, how do I help you?” Regina shakes her head, doesn't know the answer because she's never had the offer before. His brow furrows as her body continues to vibrate beneath his warm hand, and he says quietly, “Would it _\- fuck -_ would it help if I held you for a bit? I can't stand to see you shake like this.”

Regina doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know if she wants him to hold her or not, but his hand on her neck feels good, feels comforting, and she's a strong woman, _knows_ she's strong and she can overcome this, has done it many times. But would it be so bad to not have to do it alone this one time? What harm could it do to let him hold her until she stops falling apart?

She breathes deeply, smoothes her hand across her lips, swipes at her tears, and pushes her hair back from her face before she nods, whispers, “Alright.”

He slides around behind her and scoots in close, wraps one arm around her waist and tugs her snugly into the vee between his legs. His other arm wraps high across her chest, and she lets him pull her back into him, thankful that this is the position he took so that she doesn't have to look at him, doesn't have to hide her face as the stupid, ridiculous tears continue.

His arms are tight around her, his body warm as she shudders, and when several minutes pass and she hasn't calmed _at all_ , he starts whispering to her softly, says _Easy, easy_ , and _You're alright, I've got you_ , and _Breathe with me, match yours with mine_. She listens to him, tries to slow her breathing as she feels his chest rise and fall evenly against her back, and it takes a long time, close to an hour she thinks, but eventually, she gets her heart rate down and her breaths steady with his. He's unbelievably patient as he holds her close, his hands rubbing across her thin nightdress as his voice changes a little, goes soft as he encourages, _There you go, darling, that's it_ , and _You've got it now, you're in control._

She doesn't even try to fight him when he calls her _darling_ , or as he rocks them side to side gently and presses his body to hers from ankle to chest, or when he drops his head to rest his chin on her shoulder. When she finally takes a deep, smooth breath on her own, and the trembling stops, he presses the side of his face to hers and she can feel him smile against her.

She reciprocates, leans in and rubs her cheek against his, grateful for his soothing, then smoothes her hand over his forearm at her waist in thanks.

 

Jesus.

 

He's… he's starting to affect her, she realizes, his comfort is starting to seep under her skin and she can feel her attraction for him morphing into something… else.

She's exhausted, and she can't deal with her confused emotions tonight, the nightmare taking too much out of her to allow for rational thought. So she writes it off, closes her eyes and leans back into his arms, forces herself to relax as he rocks them, and after a time, she drifts off to sleep and does not dream again.

 

 


	9. The Affection

 

 

Chapter Eight - The Affection 

 

 

Regina opens her eyes slowly. They feel raw and sore as she squints, trying to clear her slightly blurry vision as she takes in the dark canvas of the tent. It’s very early, well before daybreak, and she’s not sure what pulled her awake but she revels in the warmth and comfort she feels as she comes around.

She pulls in a deep breath, her chest filling with the cool night air, and that’s when she feels him.

 

Right...

 

Robin is asleep behind her, his breaths steady and deep, with his back propped up against one of their large packs as he holds her tightly against him. At some point he must have shifted them, must have leaned back further so that they’re almost laying down, tucked in together beneath her blanket. She’s snuggled in tight between his legs, can feel every inch of his warm, thick body around her, and his arms are snug across her, one wrapping around to hold her opposite hip, and the other…

 

 _Oh_.

 

Well that’s… quite nice actually.

 

His other arm crosses her chest, and his large, warm hand is wrapped snugly around the curve of her left breast, her nipple caught in the space between his thumb and forefinger. Awareness rushes through her, her heart rate jumping up, causing her chest to expand as she breathes deeply, and the action causes him to move. His fingers flex against her supple flesh, kneading softly as his thumb swipes down, smoothes across her quickly hardening nipple, once, twice, before he squeezes her a little more firmly and moans quietly in his sleep.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, arousal creeping up as she lays against him. She’s only half awake really, hasn't pulled her emotional walls up, hasn't put the mask of the queen back on yet, and her thoughts wander before she can tamp them down. He feels amazing against her, warm and strong and thick, and he smells incredible, that pine scent makes her want to turn around, bury her face against his neck and inhale. She's relaxed, and comfortable, wrapped up with him in the cool fresh air, surrounded by darkness with no one nearby for miles and miles… and it's, well, it's wonderful.

She bites her bottom lip in indecision, wishes he would wake and touch her, would make her feel good, make her forget the drama of the night, and just let her swim in desire for a while. She shifts a little, and his hand moves again, tightening on her full mound and she feels him come awake, hears his breathing change, and everything is still for a beat. Then his fingers squeeze her again, and he purposefully pulls her nipple between his thick fingers and rubs.

Her breath rushes out quickly, the pleasure sending a hot shot of excitement through her lower belly, as his hands come alive against her body. He plays with her nipple, squeezing and pinching it, tugging it into a stiff peak as his other hand rubs across her stomach, from hip bone to hip bone, stroking over the silk fabric of her nightdress. Regina breathes deeply, presses back into him in encouragement as she drops her hands to his thighs and scratches her fingers rhythmically across the top of his pants. But then suddenly he stills, and she feels his body tighten against her back as he releases her breast. He sits up a little, his face close to hers as he breaks the silence and whispers, “You know this is me, yeah? You know I’m not, you know it's Robin, not...?” he trails off before he says Daniel's name, and Regina has never been more grateful.

She breathes deeply, slides her hand over his and brings it back to her breast, squeezing as she nods, and on a quiet exhale she says, “Touch me, Robin.”

He immediately comes back to life, his mouth finds her neck and he drops soft kisses against her skin as his hands return to their slow, sensual movements. He shifts them so they’re sitting up a little more, and he leaves her breast for a second to sweep her hair over her opposite shoulder, immediately sucking wetly below her ear, against the corner of her jaw and down, using his nose to move the neckline of her nightdress to the side so he can lick and nip at her soft skin.

God that feels good. _He_ feels good. He switches to her other breast and works her smoothly, first hefting the weight in his hand, swirling his fingers against the sensitive flesh through the thin fabric and then pulling at her nipple, stimulating it into a stiff peak to match its twin. _Jesus_ , that’s -  oh that’s perfect - and she lets her head drop back to rest heavily against his shoulder as he strokes her. His hand moves to the ties at her neckline, and when he asks, “May I untie this?” she acquiesces immediately, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

He opens the ties quickly, slides his hand beneath the fabric to firmly grasp her breast, and she shudders as his hot skin connects with hers. He strums his fingers across her nipple, then circles the pads of them around and around it, Regina’s excitement increasing as he plays with her. The hand at her waist slides over, rubs against the top of her thigh and she knows what he’s doing, can feel the fabric inching up just a little with each stroke of his fingers. The gown isn’t long to begin with - hits her at the knees and with the position they’re in, it’s already up to mid-thigh. He strokes his fingers against her, pulling the fabric up, up, until his hot digits stroke against her smooth, bare thigh, and he puffs out a sharp breath into her neck at the feeling.

“ _Goddamnit_ , you feel so good, so soft,” he mutters, stroking his fingers against her thigh, the swell of her breast, “Are you wet for me?” he breathes into her ear, and she has to fight down the shiver in response. “Can I get you wet just from this, Your Majesty? Just from playing with these perfect tits?”

She takes in a deep breath, makes a quiet, breathy _mhmm_ in the back of her throat in affirmation and he nips the crux of her shoulder and neck.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” he asks, and he rolls her nipple, slides the hand on her thigh up a little higher, pulling the hem up as he goes. He slows, tugs the fabric and says seriously, “Can we take this off?”

She nods, shifts up a little to take her weight off the gown and he takes the hint, pulls it up and over her head in a flash. She’s left in just her panties, a lacy, dark purple thong that she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t worn just in case he took an interest again. The cool night air hits her naked skin and raises gooseflesh, but before she can complain he’s pulling the blanket up over her and slipping his hands back underneath.

“Okay?” he asks softly, running his hands across the smooth planes of her stomach, and she immediately tells him yes, rubs her fingers against his thighs to get him to start back up.

He does, slides both hands to her breasts to play with her, lifting and squeezing, pulling the thick flesh and massaging her as her nipples peak again. She wants his touch there, wants him to stroke them and push desire from her chest to her clit like he was starting to before. She arches up into his touch, and he reads her perfectly, shifts to the tight little tips and ghosts across them with feather light touches that get slightly more firm with each brush of his fingers. It’s heaven, sends throbbing pleasure straight to her clit, and she’s getting wet, her sex heating up with the anticipation of whatever he has planned next.

His mouth works against her neck, across the top of her shoulder and then back down to drag along the curve of her shoulder blade to her spine, where he sucks hotly and nips at her with his perfect teeth. She tilts forward, giving his mouth more room and shoving her breasts against his hands, and he pinches her nipples, squeezes tighter, tighter, until she gasps, is just about to tell him to stop but he releases, and the sensitive nubs peak hard, throb in a way that sends a hot thrill through her lower belly. She moans against him, licks her lips, and scratches her nails up the insides of his thighs.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, peppering her other shoulder with kisses now. “I could play with these plump tits all day,” he squeezes both breasts tightly, “I could suck on your pretty little nipples until they’re red and raw and aching, and you’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d like them roughed up and chafed, you’d get wet thinking of how my mouth made them that way, wouldn’t you?”

Regina exhales harshly, arching her back as he flicks-flicks-flicks-flicks against her tight buds, can feel the hot, moisture increasing between her thighs as his words light her up, make her envision what he’s saying and how, yes, she would definitely enjoy that.

He pinches her nipples in tandem, then alternates, tugging and twisting each in turn, until she’s squirming against him, her hips moving with arousal, sex needy for his attention.

“More,” she whines, “Give me more.”

“Tell me what you want - tell me where to put my hands on your hot, beautiful body,” he commands, his voice deep and gravelly, and the way he says it makes her shiver.

“Touch my clit,” she whispers, shifting her hips wantonly.

He moans and slides both hands down her smooth stomach, over her hip bones and down, stroking the soft flesh of her inner thighs before he circles back up, inches his fingers closer and closer to where she wants them most. “Open for me,” he whispers, and she does, she spreads her legs as wide as she can, but is limited by his legs bracketing hers and she huffs out a small, frustrated sigh.

He laughs softly, the deep vibration transferring from his thick chest to her back as the sexy sound floods through her, sending a shiver up her spine - up, up to the back of her head, gooseflesh breaking across her neck and tightening her already stiff nipples. He smooths his hands from the insides of her thighs to the outsides, slides his hands down toward her knees and says, his lips against her ear, “Up and over,” as he lifts her legs and pulls them up and to the outside of his, her feet flat against the bedroll and her knees bent as he spreads her wide and tips her pelvis up to him. He runs his hands back up the insides of her thighs, making a deep, low moan in his throat as he nears her sex, stopping just shy of her _very_ slick folds.

Regina drops her head back against his shoulder, groaning softly as she says, “You’re a tease, Robin Hood.”

He hums against her shoulder, and as his fingers swirl across her sensitive, soft flesh, getting closer and closer to the apex of her thighs on each pass, he nips her earlobe and says, “It’s no fault of mine that you’re such a needy little trollop.” His words should make her angry, definitely should not make her hips thrust up, should not make her breath catch on a moan that she tries desperately to stifle. She’s trying and failing to calm down, trying to correct the way she’s breathing fast in her anticipation, digging her nails into his legs lightly as she struggles to stop her hips from moving with her need. Finally, he slides his fingers across the hinge of her thighs, stroking slowly, slowly, until finally, he slips two fingers under the fabric of her thong and runs them straight up the center of her, collecting her hot, fluid desire on his fingers as he glides easily through her folds.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he breathes against her neck, “So wet - more than ready for me aren’t you?” He circles his fingers around her clit and then down, rubs across her entrance in small circles and dips in to the first knuckle.

Regina moans softly, moves her hips up against his fingers as she tries to get him to go deeper. She’s so wet, so hot, her panties are soaked through and she can feel her body readying for him, wanting him inside her in any way he’s willing to give her.

He slides his fingers around and around, softly pinches each of her pink, inner lips and pulls gently, rubs and plays with them as his other hand slides back up to her breasts to tug her nipples into hard, pebbled peaks once again. His fingers are calloused but gentle against the smooth, slick skin of her sex - his touch elicits molten desire in her, making her throb, making her ache for him as he strokes her, pauses at her clit to rub slow little swirls across the swollen bud before bracketing it between his middle and forefinger to squeeze, then rub. He rolls her clit carefully, then slides his fingers up and down against her, stimulating both sides of the hot, tight little bud. He strokes fast, over and over and over as the heat and moisture build - she can feel it seeping from her, her underwear too saturated to be useful - and she wishes he was inside of her, wants more but _needs_ this slow, sensual build up to make her forget, make her focus only on his clever fingers against her body. He sucks hotly against her neck as he positions her clit just right between his thick fingers, then pulls a loud moan from her as he starts up quick, repetitive scissoring motions. Regina’s hips jerk up with the hot streak of desire that runs through her - oh god that’s good - _sooo_ sensitive - her clit is throbbing, on fire with the arousal he creates as he rubs her quick-quick-quick - _jesus_ that’s perfect - she’s panting and thrusting her hips up and _\- oh god -_ she’s going to come from this if he keeps it up, _fuck_ that feels good. His movement kneads and squeezes her trapped bud, brings constant, relentless stimulation to the extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, and she moans and rocks her hips as pleasure washes through her.

He keeps at her until her back arches _\- close, so close -_ her breath hitching as a hot rush of arousal races through her, building up, up, but then he releases her clit and switches back to slow, firm circles against it, dipping down to gather some of the abundant moisture seeping from her to lubricate the pads of his fingers. Jesus _\- fuck -_ her pleasure grows and intensifies as he draws her up slowly, carefully, making her more wet with every pass across the sensitive bud.

“You’re dripping for me,” he says, and his voice is a little shaky this time - Regina wonders how affected he is, if he might come from just touching her. “You want me inside of you, don’t you? Your soaked cunt is begging for it, babe, you want me to slide my fingers up into you?”

Regina nods enthusiastically, thrusts her hips up as three of his fingers follow his words, teasing her entrance again, dipping just barely in and then out. He slides his thick digits in to the first knuckle then spreads them, pressing firmly around the edges of her, opening her wide - fuck - she’s not sure she’s ever had someone do that - but it turns her on, makes her think of his thick cock and how he stretched her the last time.

“You can take three fingers, can’t you, Your Majesty?” he grates out, flexing his digits a touch wider, then closing them, swirling around and around her entrance, dipping in further this time to the second knuckle. She moans against him, her thighs starting to shake with anticipation and pent-up arousal, needing more than his teasing touches, wanting him to dip into her and hit that ultra-sensitive spot deep inside of her, to tap against that while he rubs her clit.

She gets bold, digs her fingers into his thighs as a warning and rasps, “I can take whatever you can give me, Thief.”

He moans, sinks his teeth into the top of her shoulder and finally slides those thick fingers deep, deep into her.

She thrusts up, trying to get him even deeper, spreading her thighs open further, tipping her sex up and gasping with the hot pleasure that pulses through her. She moans, writhes wantonly as she arches her back and gasps, “Oh god, please, give it - _oh god_.”  

He drags his fingers slowly out, then in, thrusting at a snail’s pace, driving her nearly insane with want as her clit throbs, swollen and hard from his teasing. Her chest breaks out in gooseflesh, nipples peaked and sensitive from his attention, the lower muscles in her abdomen starting to quiver with the repressed arousal that he won’t quite bring to fruition.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he growls, moving his fingers a little faster, “You squeezed my cock so hard when I fucked you last time - thought you might not be able to take me.” Robin moves his fingers faster, more punctuated, a little deeper as he continues, “But you did, didn’t you, my good girl? You took me _hard_ , and _fast_ , and _deep,_ all night.”

He kisses her cheek and Regina shudders, breath catching as she recalls their night together - the table, the bed, the balcony - _goddd_ that was a good night.

His breath is a little ragged as his fingers thrust steadily, nice and deep, quick enough that he’s got her thrusting back, chasing his fingers as he pulls out, countering him as he strokes back in. It’s so, _so good_.

“How many lovers have you had since then?” He doesn’t even sound jealous as he asks her this, just turned on and curious, and she feels like if she were thinking rationally that she would be offended or annoyed by the question. But, considering the way he enthusiastically ate her out in spite of another man having _just_ been in her the last time they had sex, she thinks maybe this is a kink for him, maybe he likes the idea of her with other men.

His fingers pump faster into her as he awaits her answer, and the rhythm is wonderful - making her slick and hot, her liquid desire coating his fingers as he thrusts, smearing across the tops of her inner thighs. “Three?” he guesses, “Four?”

“None,” she says honestly, breathless as he works her up.

“You can tell me,” he murmurs, “A woman like you needs it all the time, don't you? You need to be fucked constantly, need someone to fill you up every night.”

She moans, her hips moving a little more desperately as his words wash through her. She _would_ like that, if she could find someone to reliably get the job done, someone who wasn't afraid of her, someone she actually enjoyed spending that much time with.

“No one since you,” she says again.

He groans, sucks hard against her neck and his hips rock behind her, his hard length now obvious with the shift as he presses into her lower back. “Mmm,” he says quietly, lips against her ear, “This tight little cunt needs stretching then, doesn't it?”

With a last, tight pinch and tug to her nipple, he slides his other hand down below the waistband of her panties to join its twin. When the pads of his fingers brush her clit Regina twitches hard, her breath rushing out as she begs him, “Oh god, rub it, _please_.”

He immediately obliges, slides his fingers quickly back and forth across her engorged bud as his other hand drives into her with hard, punctuated thrusts, deep and strong enough to jostle her body a little with the force.

Regina’s mouth drops open as she pants, thighs shaking and hips moving on their own, thrusting against him as his hands drive her pleasure up, up, up. Her inner muscles are tightening, the flames of her desperate need licking through the swollen flesh of her sex, throbbing in her clit as he rubs and rubs against her. She’s so wet - _god_ \- his hand is covered in her slick juices, her thighs coated, the noises as he works his fingers faster, faster are completely obscene and make her flush as he pants behind her, his own hips working against her back.

“Want you so bad,” he growls, “You're so swollen, so wet for me - do you wanna finish on my fingers, or do you want my cock?”

Regina gasps, trying to catch her breath but his fingers are relentless. She’s close, really close, could come any second with a couple of strokes that are just right, but the thought of having him inside of her is suddenly so alluring that she wants to wait, wants to clench on him and feel his thick length taking the force of her orgasm.

“I’m close,” she rasps, “so close - ohhh - want to come on your cock.”

He moves fast and she suddenly finds herself on her back as he kneels in front of her, grabs her thong and pulls it roughly off. His hands are shaking hard as he opens his trousers, shoving them down and off before taking himself in hand and stroking once, twice as he stares down at her lasciviously spread legs, glistening sex and trembling thighs, and a deep moan rumbles up from his chest. “Fucking _hell,_ ” he says, “You’re a goddamn siren, Regina.” He shifts forward and guides himself into her, and her hips roll up as he slides in slowly, her head tipping back hard as she moans loudly, his girth stretching her as wide as he promised, and he gets deeper, deeper, until he is fully sheathed within her. He pauses, and she’s finally able to catch her breath, but it’s only for a second, because then he’s sliding out, and in, out, and in, his strokes long and smooth as he braces over her. He leans down, captures her lips in their first kiss of the evening, biting her lips and tangling his tongue with hers as he dips it deep into her mouth. She bites back, gasps loudly and tears her mouth from his when he hits her deep, and he sticks with it, keeps the angle just right as he speeds up, going faster, faster, until he’s pounding into her. He shifts back for a second to hook her knees over his elbows, spreading her wide and pulling her legs up as he thrusts on his knees, getting more urgent by the second, and - oh god, _oh god -_ he’s so deep, he’s hitting her just right, rubbing right against her g-spot with each thrust - ohhhhh god this is going to be over fast. She can’t keep her mouth shut, is gasping and moaning and whining under him, the pleasure white hot with every thrust, tingling and intense from her prolonged arousal, and when he commands, “Rub that pretty little clit for me,” she immediately does it. She swirls her fingers around, around, speeding up as he thrusts hard-hard-hard, her breasts shaking as he pumps into her, and she reaches her free hand up to thread through her thick dark hair, tugging lightly as she works herself up with him.

It’s not going to be long, she’s so close - he’s hard and thick inside of her, and she loves that thickness, loves the way he stretches her so tight as he drives and drives into her. He stimulates everything, his thick length rubbing across every nerve inside of her to press against that perfect spot deep within, and she almost always needs her clit stimulated, but if she had to go without, she’s pretty confident she could come just from the hot slide of Robin’s cock deep within her.

He leans back further, starts pulling her pelvis to him hard as he thrusts deep - deep - deep, and _-fuck-_ she’s going to come, she increases the speed of her fingers as she flicks rapidly back and forth over her clit - _ahhh jesus_ \- she’s almost there - _oh god_ \- and he says “You fucking love that thick cock don’t you? Want it deep inside of you every minute of every day, isn’t that right?” He slaps her ass then, like a common whore, and she cries out in shock, in outrage, but he gives her no reprieve, thrusts hard-hard-hard-hard and smacks her ass again, and suddenly, to her embarrassment, a hot surge of pleasure streaks through her - he hits that sensitive spot deep inside her again-again-again - and he spanks her a third time, tells her, “That's right, take that cock,” smacks her hot, reddened flesh once more, gooseflesh breaks across her ass and sends a violent shiver through her, he thrusts _hard_ and she moans, goes up-up-up- _oh god_ \- UP - then fractures under him, thighs shaking as she rocks up uncontrollably - hips jerking as she flurries her fingers and the pleasure spikes, rushes over, her clit throbs and she clenches, back arching and legs spreading wide as she rubs her little bud once more and contracts again, a loud groan tearing from her lips as she gasps _-oh god oh god oh god-_ as she milks the cock that she _absolutely_ wants inside of her more often than not.

He’s rocking fast, swearing as she spasms around his length, trying to last for her as she throbs and moans and comes completely apart beneath him, and he makes it - just barely - she finally starts coming down as he slows a little, and he groans, his voice rough as he asks hurriedly, “Gonna come, where do you want it?”

She’s not sure what comes over her, a reward, perhaps for his filthy words that worked her up so hard tonight, but she says, panting, “Come up here - come in my mouth,” and he actually trembles, moans desperately, pulls out fast and crawls up her body to straddle her shoulders as he shoves his cock into her open mouth and immediately spills.

She sucks hard on him as he shudders, as he thrusts shallowly between her lips as his fingers wrap around the rest of his shaft, pumping quickly as he gives her another gush, panting above her and making soft, desperate noises in the back of his throat. “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he groans as she hollows her cheeks, pulls him in deep - he pumps fast and gives her another, final spurt before pulling out - her regal mouth utterly filled with his hot release. She swallows quickly - tries not to think too much about it - then pulls his still hard cock back in, sucks a little softer, swirling around his sensitive head and lapping at him as he shudders. He brushes her dark hair back from her forehead, staring at her full lips wrapped around him as he strokes his hand down her neck and says softly, “So beautiful.”

He pulls out from her mouth, slides down her body slowly and presses soft, warm kisses all across her neck, her chest, her breasts as he descends. He grabs the blanket and covers them, murmurs, “C’mere,” as he pulls her to him and gets her situated so she’s on top of him, draped across his warm body. He kisses her hard, framing her face with his large hands as he sucks her top and bottom lip, swipes his tongue in to stroke against hers, completely unaffected by the fact that he came in her mouth only a few seconds ago.

Jesus, he’s - _god_ \- he’s amazing.

She kisses him back, their desperate movements softening, softening, until they’re gentle and lazy against each other’s lips. She settles down on him, bare chest to chest, kisses his pec as he slides his hands into her black, waving hair and strokes soothingly. It feels so nice - so, unbelievably nice to be touched like this, to have her hair played with and her body spent from all the attention he’s given her. She breathes deeply, asks him, “When do we need to go?” nervous that they will need to pack up soon, that it will ruin this moment she’s so content to bask in.

“We have time,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of her head and smoothing his hand over her back. “Close your eyes and rest, yeah?” he asks quietly, and she nods against his chest.

A rush of emotion hits her suddenly, and she pulls in a deep breath to calm herself.

 

Regina closes her eyes, tries to remember that she’s the Evil Queen - a powerful, ruthless monarch that murders and tortures at the drop of a hat, that she’s the monster villagers warn their babes about, that her heart is the blackest of black, there is no room for the emotion she’s feeling right now.

 

Because that emotion feels strangely like _affection_ , and she certainly cannot have that.

 

She’s tired though, tired, and sated, and relaxed from the intense pleasure he’s given her, so she just closes her eyes and stops thinking, lets herself get wrapped up in the foresty smell of him as she matches her breaths with his for the second time tonight, and falls asleep against him.

 

 


	10. The Awkward

 

 

Chapter Nine - The Awkward 

 

It’s awkward.

 

And confusing.

 

When they awoke the next morning, Regina found herself on her side, tucked tightly into Robin’s chest, her head beneath his chin, and her forehead, the bridge of her nose pressed right against his sternum. Her head was cushioned on his bicep, his other arm tight around her waist, and with one of his muscled legs tangled between hers, she could feel his morning arousal nudging insistently against her belly as she blinked the sleep from her eyes. For a moment, everything felt perfect - she was comfortable, warm, and content against him, wrapped up in his scent and the hot press of his naked skin against hers, the soft blanket shielding them from the cold, and she wished they could stay that way, wished they could rub and touch and stroke each other awake, could spend hours pressing against each other while the world turned around them.

His breathing was deep and even, and without thinking she pressed her lips to his chest, dropped several small, wet kisses against him as she smoothed her hands across his abs, then lower, lower, to encircle his erection, gliding her fingers softly up and down his smooth skin as his breathing changed and his hips thrust toward her in unconscious arousal. He was still very much asleep, and she liked his reaction, liked that he was hard and ready for her, liked that he moaned softly and buried his face in her hair as she tightened her fingers, as she swirled her thumb across the tip of him. She continued to stroke him, gaining a little speed, giving him a twist at the top and rocking her hips against his thigh, smearing her wetness against him as his hot breaths hit the crown of her head, his fingers flexing at her hip, then sliding down to her ass. He stroked her round flesh, then hiked her leg up on his waist as he thrust into her fist, moaning softly, still mostly asleep as she worked him up. She wanted to put her mouth on him, wanted to shimmy down and wrap her lips around his thick length, but wasn’t quite ready to give up the warmth of his arms, so instead she slid her fingers down to squeeze his heavy balls, to knead and stroke them for a few seconds as he groaned and nudged her belly with his cock, seeking her out as she pleasured him.

His fingers smoothed up the length of her thigh to squeeze her ass again, and he pulled her to him roughly, his digits sliding into her cleft and teasing against her as she stroked him, working her thumb around and around the head of him as she sucked hot kisses against his chest.

Regina let herself grind down on his thigh when he let out a low groan from deep in his chest, thrusting hard against her hand and digging his fingers into her heated skin. He woke suddenly, she could feel his awareness race through him the second it happened, so she moved her hand faster on him, stroking him with quick, shallow pumps. She could tell he was close, and she wanted him to come - wanted him to spray her stomach with his warm, slick fluid, wanted the first part of her day to be this victory, this memory, and she moaned with the thought, breathed his name - _Robin -_ against his chest as he thrust faster against her palm.

His fingers probed against her rear entrance, and Regina jerked in response, completely unsure of his intention and not paying enough attention to her own need to know if she wanted that or not - she has never _really_ wanted that, but Robin tends to make her want things she had no idea she wanted before. He circled his fingers against her rear opening, and she gripped him tighter, speeding up, jerking him fast and snug in her fist as he moaned and played with her ass. His abs started to shake and his breaths grew ragged, and she knew she had him, was just a few strokes from making him come, when suddenly he rolled her to her belly, shoved her knees apart and thrust deep into her from behind.

Regina cried out - _jesus fuuuuck -_ she was tight, still swollen and sensitive from the night before, but so, _so_ wet for him, aching from merely handling his thick cock, and he moaned as he gave her punctuated, deep strokes, giving her no time to adjust, no time to do anything but take his hard length into her hot, needy sex.

He pulled her hips up so she was on her knees, ass presented to him as he drove into her, deep-deep-deep and fast, his filthy words riling her up again, igniting her temper and her arousal in one sentence as he spread her ass cheeks wide, pressed against her tight hole with his suspiciously wet thumb and chided, “You cum hungry tart - can’t get enough of that cock, can you?”

Regina moaned in spite of herself, feeling her inner muscles clench on him, feeling heat ripple through her sex as he dipped his thumb into her, penetrating her to the first knuckle and moaning loudly as he did it, gasping, “ _So fucking tight,_ ” without discerning whether he meant her ass or her cunt.

His hips slapped loudly against the backs of her thighs as he drove deep into her, rapidly pushing her pleasure up as he hit against her sensitive inner nerve endings. He thrust his thumb shallowly in and out of her ass, angling the movement down toward the floor as he continued to goad her, “Wasn’t enough to wake up with the taste of my come on your tongue, was it? Need me to fill you up, flood that cunt, fill this tight little arse until you can’t take another drop, isn’t that right?”

She lost her breath at his filthy words, his filthy ideas, his filthy handling of her body, and she tightened around him, moaning loudly into the dim morning light as her body jostled against his hard thrusts. He pulled out for a second, and she whined loudly with the loss of him, but his fingers dipped deep in and out of her and then he shoved his cock back in, thrusting faster and faster as his now slick fingers swirled around her rear entrance, lubricating her as he slid his middle finger in a couple inches.

Regina let her face drop to the soft blankets, hiding herself from the world, hiding her shame from her obvious enjoyment of his misuse of her body as her arousal dripped down her inner thighs, her clit completely untouched and aching while he penetrated both openings. Suddenly his hips stuttered against her, and he cursed loudly, his finger slid a little deeper into her, pressing firmly against the shared wall where his cock was thrusting, and he groaned out, “Gonna come inside you,” as he started thrusting frantically, hips slapping loudly against her, driving in deep.

She was on fire, close to coming in spite of herself, in spite of the short time he’d been driving inside of her, and as he railed against her, she felt her internal walls tighten, fluttering quickly around the driving slide of his thick length as he hit her g-spot, slamming into her fast, fast, fast, the tip of his finger still in her ass, pressing against this sensitive spot she didn’t know she had, turning the pleasure hot, hot, inside of her. She was suddenly too sensitive, the pleasure spiking somewhere between pain and perfection, and she was overwhelmed, tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped out, “ _Too much, too much,”_ but he didn’t stop, gave her _more_ instead, speeding the thrusts of his cock and pulling out his finger to circle around and rub frantically against her clit, commanding her to “Let go, babe, let go for me.” She jerked away - _fuck, fuck it’s too much_ \- but his fingers chased her, rubbed her aching clit regardless of where she moved her hips, so she gave in and cried out, let him rub her sensitive bud as the pain turned back into pleasure, her desire positively burning in her sex as she buried her face in the blanket. He rubbed and rubbed her, pistoned against her sensitive core, and she clawed at the bedroll as she suddenly, _finally_ lost control, contracted hard as the hot fluid of her shattering orgasm poured from her, moaning and writhing like the whore he likes to call her, crying and begging for more, clenching and gushing and forgetting everything except for the hot, rushing pleasure as he fucked into her shaking body over, and over, and over.

Vaguely she heard him call out her name as he suddenly pressed hard, deep into her, and she felt him come, felt him fill her sensitive, tight channel with his hot, thick, come and then quickly pull out, felt another warm jet hit the backs of her thighs as she moaned loudly with the loss of him before she felt him spread her ass cheeks, felt him jerking behind her as he aimed his thick liquid at the cleft of her ass, feeling it run down her to pool in the folds of her sex, joining with his come that was already seeping from her, as he groaned, “Oh my fucking god.” Then he pressed the head of his cock right up against her gaping rear entrance, shuddering and gripping her cheeks tightly as he deposited a few drops of his hot come into her, filling both holes, just like he promised.

 

So yes, it’s awkward now. Awkward as she rides her big warhorse next to him, the apex of her thighs tender and throbbing, but once again presenting herself as the Evil Queen, once again in control of every emotion, every gesture, every word.

It’s awkward as she feels his come seep out of her, ruining another, less alluring pair of panties and making her cringe when the damp fabric sticks to her. Awkward as she looks over and catches the dumbstruck look on his face as he pretends not to stare at her.

 

And it’s confusing.

 

Because she doesn’t do these things. Doesn’t let men come in her - not in her mouth, not in her sex, and certainly not in her rear. She doesn’t let men hold her, doesn’t spend the night in their arms and then wake them up with hand jobs and hot kisses in the early morning light. She doesn’t let men call her awful names and whisper filthy obscenities, doesn’t let them ignore her protests that she can’t take it - that it’s too much - while they fuck her into mind-blowing orgasms that have her coming so hard she’s completely ruined her bedroll with her own liquid desire.

It’s confusing because she is absolutely certain that she’s never let go for anyone the way she just let go for Robin. Confusing because she’s never come that hard in her life. Confusing because she’s just realized that she hasn’t once thought of Daniel on _any_ of the occasions she’s been with Robin, and she’s not ready to accept what that might mean.

 

  
Regina tries to tamp the thoughts down, tries not to think about all the implications of what’s happening, of what _she is allowing to happen_ , with Robin. She needs to focus on their task, needs to remind herself that in just a few short days she’s going to be facing off with her mother, who currently has possession of her heart, whose motives are unknown but are certainly not for the health and well-being of Regina, she is certain.

He clears his throat next to her and she looks over before she can stop herself, catches the grimace on his face as he says quietly, “I uh, feel I must apologize, Milady, for uh…” he pauses and Regina feels her face flush, “For putting you in a situation that has the potential to be… compromising…”

She furrows her brow, completely uncomfortable with the discussion but not sure which part of their activities he’s referring to. She tilts her head at him and snaps, “What are you blathering on about?”

He grimaces again, rubs his gloved hand across his eyes and says, “I just want to apologize for uh, for _cominginsideofyou."_

 

She grimaces back. Of course that’s what he means. Of course he has concerns that he just impregnated the Evil Queen. Jesus. This entire “thing” is such a mess.

 

“-and for continuing to fuck you, when you said it was too much.” he continues quickly, dropping his gaze as his own cheeks flush.

She’s a little mortified that he thinks he took advantage of her, thinks he gave her something she didn’t want. And now she’s going to have to admit that she wanted everything - _everything -_ he gave her. God this is awkward.

Regina wishes she knew what kind of enchantments and protective charms Cora was using so that she could teleport to her and get this whole journey over with. Wishes Cora would just do whatever the hell it is she intends to do, so that Regina can move on with her life and get the hell away from this man who makes her feel so confused, so awkward, so _aroused_ all the time.

She huffs out a heavy breath, tightening and untightening her fingers around Noctis’ reins as she replies, feeling rather annoyed, “If I thought an apology was necessary, I’d have elicited one from you by now.”

He tilts his head and studies her, and she holds her head high, back straight in the saddle. She will not bow under his scrutiny. She is a queen, and while she might not go shouting from the rooftops that she enjoys when Robin spanks or chokes or comes all over her, she’ll be damned if he thinks she’s going to be embarrassed of it in front of him.

“Well, that’s uh, that’s good then, yeah?” he says quietly, and she thinks he might be talking more to himself than to her by the way he looks down at his hands, confusion evident in the scrunch of his brow.

“You’ve no need to be concerned about the possibility of a child,” she admits quietly, and she hates that she’s going to tell him this, has an irrational streak of fear that he’s going to think less of her when he finds out.

 

Not that she cares what he thinks.

 

She doesn’t - she _doesn’t._

 

“No?” he asks softly, shooting her a quick sideways glance.

“I am… unable to bear children,” she says quickly, looking away, studying the road far ahead of them and shifting uncomfortably in her stirrups.

“I see,” he mutters, and a few minutes pass before he asks, “Have you always been, I mean, have you never been able?”

That’s a rather personal question, and she doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. She’s never discussed this with anyone but her wretched mother, and it’s weird to talk about it with Robin like they’re friends, or lovers, or… whatever.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at her, like he’s truly curious about her life, not trying to use the information against her, not plotting some secret evil plot that he’s concocting from the details, that urges her to talk, urges her to confide in him.

“My mother encouraged me to have children, to produce an heir for my late husband,” she says, careful to keep her voice even, “But Leopold was unable to successfully plant the seed, despite his many efforts.” She fights down the rage, the memories of the old man’s abuse of her young body. “After his death, my mother voiced her displeasure with me, and she threatened to take any child I produced, to raise them in a way that wouldn’t be quite so disappointing as I was,” her voice is soft now - she’s not quite able to take the hurt out of her tone. “So I drank a potion to remove her future claim on the royal line, so she’d never have the chance to do to my child what she did to me.”

She grits her jaw and brings her eyes to Robin’s, raw from her confessions and scrambling to put her emotional walls back up, completely unprepared for what she sees. His jaw is tight, fury evident in his eyes as he stares at her, hands clenched around the reins of his own mount.

“Your mother is a bitch,” he snarls, locking eyes with her.

She nods, says simply, “Yes,” then has to drop her eyes from him, the emotions too much for the bright, sunlit day.

“Do you think that’s what she’s doing with Roland?” he asks quietly, a few minutes later.

Regina considers for a moment, then nods, “When it comes to my mother’s desire for power, anything is possible.”

 

 


	11. The Other Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - references to child abuse

 

 

Chapter Ten - The Other Nightmare 

 

 

_The pain is unbearable._

_The fire licks at her palm, engulfing her pale flesh, burning and sizzling as it sears her, as she screams, and cries, and begs her mother to “Please, let me stop!”_

_Cora snaps at her, tells her to “Stop being a baby and focus, Regina!” as she starts to hyperventilate with the pain, the outer layer of her skin blistering as the fireball flickers and flares._

_Regina wails again, the cry turning into a scream as she tries to control the fire and fails, the flames licking up her wrist and around the back of her hand, the burn deepening from first to second degree in a matter of seconds as her hand is engulfed by the magic fire._

_“Concentrate, you worthless girl!” Cora screams at her as the flame sparks, starts to flicker and suddenly dies, leaving Regina breathless and sobbing, pain from her ruined hand radiating through her and causing her to vomit._

_Regina topples to her knees, then collapses to her side, her cheek flush against the cool stone floor. She wishes she was dead. Wishes she could throw herself from the tower, or into the sea, or onto the sharp blade of a sword._

_“Disgusting!” Cora barks at her, magicking away the mess of bile Regina brought up. “You are sixteen years old, Regina, you should easily have this down by now! You aren’t practicing enough, you aren’t concentrating. What is wrong with you, you ungrateful brat?!”_

_“I’m sorry,” Regina pants between sobs, “I’m sorry, Mother.”_

_Cora circles her, snaps at her to, “Stop being dramatic, get up, get off of the floor and stop acting like a sniveling peasant.” Regina tries, manages to pull herself to her knees but can’t find the strength to stand, the pain in her hand throbbing and sharp, her whole body shaking violently._

_Cora comes to stand in front of her, and when she demands, “Give me your hand,” Regina immediately complies, knowing better than to deny her mother, regardless of what foul intentions she may have in store for her._

_Much to her surprise, however, her mother waves her fingers around the perimeter of her hand, and the pain immediately abates, her charred skin returning to smooth perfection before her eyes._

_Regina sucks in a deep breath, stunned and grateful for the relief, immediately wiping at her face to remove the tears and saliva elicited by the pain as she gets to her feet._

_“There, now,” Cora says quietly, and Regina knows better than to think this is kindness or concern. “All better?” she asks._

_Regina nods her head but then corrects herself, says, “Yes Mother, thank you,” obediently as she bows her head, and Cora reaches for her, strokes her fingers along her jawline. The touch is soft, sweet at first, and then punishing as her mother grips her chin, shaking her head sharply as she commands, “Now, again. Until you get it right.”_

_Dread and fear wash through Regina, she feels her face immediately pale, and she brings her dark pleading eyes to her mother’s, but before she can beg for mercy, before she can protest, Cora snaps, “Now, Regina!” and shoves her back by her face, glaring at her with an expectant, condescending look._

_Regina knows she cannot escape, cannot do anything but attempt what her mother demands, so she summons the fireball, loses control almost immediately and chars her hand all over again, screaming with the fresh pain, sobbing and begging for mercy. Cora gives her none, forces her to create the fireball again, and again, and again - Regina repeatedly burning herself and her mother healing her back to health, as Regina screams, begs, “STOP! STOP! Please Mother! Stop!”_

 

Icey water splashes against her face and Regina shrieks, sputtering and sitting up quickly, fireballs in both palms as she’s shocked awake. There is dark movement suddenly, and a heavy weight slams into her chest, knocking her over backward, jerking her hands up over her head, flames snuffing out as she struggles, confused and still terrified from her nightmare.

“Stop!” he says urgently, “Regina! Stop, please - _listen to me!_ ”

She goes still under him, under Robin, who is laying heavily on top of her, his hands wrapped tightly around her wrists as she tries to make sense of the situation.

 

She’s drenched to the bone, the cold water having soaked through her blankets, her night dress, saturating her hair and making it stick to her forehead as he presses her entire body down with his. “Breathe!” he commands, and she does, she looks up at the ceiling of the tent and pulls in sharp, deep breaths, finally noticing that she’s shaking, that her hands _hurt,_ that she’s crying and is having trouble stopping the tears even as she rouses.

“You’re alright, now,” he says quickly, flexing his fingers against her wrists, “You’re alright” he repeats, puffing out a hot breath against her cold skin and catching her eyes with his. “She’s not here, she can’t hurt you - I’ve got you and you’re safe.”

On her next breath an embarrassing sob chokes out of her and she squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at the Thief, doesn’t have to see the concern and fear in his bright blue eyes as he holds her down.

“ _Christ_ , darling, your hands - you’ve burned your hands,” he rasps, and she cringes, already knowing what she’s done.

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately, pathetically, and pulls her magic up, heals her palms quickly and efficiently the same way she always does after this dream.

“You’re sorry?” he asks, and she opens her eyes to see his bewildered expression. “What in the bloody hell do you have to be sorry about?”

“I -” she starts, then snaps her mouth shut. He’s right, she doesn’t really have anything to be sorry about, but she’s still half in - half out of her dream, the adrenaline and panic surging through her, making her repeat old habits that were strictly instilled by her mother.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice strong and calm. She does, she stares up at him and tries to match her ragged, shaking breaths with his like she did the night before. He feels her attempts, nods his approval, then says, “You are Queen of Misthaven, the most feared and respected monarch in this realm, and a powerful sorceress in your own right - you apologize to no one, _no one_ , because _you_ are _Regina_.”

 

Her breath shudders beneath him as she tries to absorb his words, tries to soak up the confidence he’s trying to give her so that she can escape the reminder of her terrifying childhood. He shifts back, pulls her arms down so her hands are at shoulder height, and he leans to the side to press his lips to her newly healed palm. She opens her fingers instinctively, giving him more room, and he drops warm kisses all across her hand, letting his tongue dart out as he opens his mouth more, sucks a little harder against the sensitive skin as he works his way down to her wrist, kissing across it just above where his hand holds her tightly. He switches to her other hand and gives it the same treatment, sucks hot, wet kisses into her sensitive flesh as she flexes her fingers and breathes deeply, calming under him, her attention successfully diverted from the dream to his attentive mouth.

People are afraid of her hands, and she’s given them good reason to be. Regina’s hands are deadly in a multitude of ways - whether it’s through fire, or the ripping out of hearts, or the signing of death warrants, anyone who knows her reputation knows her worst misdeeds are channeled through her palms, and every person she has touched as an adult has shied from her hands when presented with them.

 

Except for Robin.

 

Robin presses kisses against her hands like they’re made of blown glass. Like they are fragile, beautiful pieces of art that must be worshipped, that must be appreciated and cared for as if they could shatter beneath his mouth. The way he touches her hands makes her breath hitch, makes her pulse jump and the spot where her heart should be feels warm and tingly.

He pulls back from her and lets go of her wrists as she calms, and as he slides his body from hers, she shivers when the cool air hits her damp flesh.

“My apologies for the water,” he says quietly, looking a little helpless, “but your bedroll was on fire by the time I got in here, and I didn’t want you to suffer more damage than you’d already sustained.”

Regina has to fight the small smile that’s trying to work its way up. He was concerned about her safety. Again.

“If you haven’t a spare gown, I’ve an extra shirt you can sleep in,” he says softly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck sheepishly, “And my tent is dry, if you’d care to…share?”

She nods her agreement, averse to using more magic tonight, chilled and wanting the dry warmth he’s offering her. Robin stands and holds his hand out to her, she takes it immediately, still shaking a little, and he doesn’t let go until they’re inside his tent. He crouches next to his pack and fishes out a tan, long sleeved shirt for her, then turns his back like a gentleman while she pulls her damp night dress off and tugs his shirt on. It’s a little ridiculous, considering how familiar they are with each other’s bodies, but she appreciates it anyway, that he can separate what they do between the sheets with how he should treat her outside of those passionate, reckless moments.

His shirt is big on her, the deep vee at the neckline dips between her breasts, the inner swells plainly visible between the cotton ties, the dark spots of her peaked nipples are obvious against the light colored fabric, and the hem ends at her upper thighs, leaving the long length of her legs mostly bare. The sleeves are too long, so she rolls them quickly and runs her hands through her damp hair, shaking it out, finger combing it over one shoulder before she tells him, “Okay,” and he turns back around.

 

He freezes.

 

Regina looks around stupidly, unsure what’s made him react that way, but he clears his throat and rasps, “ _Fucking Christ_ , woman, that shirt has never looked so good,” and a hot rush of excitement floods her belly.

She smiles at him, a real smile, liking the way his eyes pause at the teasing neckline, slide appreciatively over her breasts, then rake slowly down her bare legs as he swallows thickly. “ _Jesus,_ ” he sighs, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face as he gawks, then walks up to her, giving her plenty of time to back away. She doesn’t, too curious about the battle he always seems to be fighting and failing at when it comes to touching her.

He slides his hands over her hips as he steps into her, their chests close as he drops his head, tucks his nose against the soft skin just below her ear and inhales. There’s something innocent and wonderful in the action - he could have touched her anywhere, certainly there are more erotic places for his face to be, but he just breathes her in deeply, lets his hot breath dance across the sensitive skin of her neck as he flexes his fingers against her hips and slides them around to her lower back, pulling her closer still.

“You always smell so good,” he whispers, taking another deep breath, sliding his hands to her ribs and stroking slowly up and down. He brings his hands up to run through her hair, pulling it off her shoulder and tipping her head back as he goes, exposing the column of her throat to him. His mouth descends on her, giving her soft, wet, open mouthed kisses from her chin to her collarbone and back up, hands threading through her long hair and cupping the base of her skull as he ascends. They’re eye to eye then, mouths a whisper apart, his breath hitting her lips as he stares at her, and she’s confused again, confused by this sweet side he’s showing her tonight.  

“You have the most gorgeous, dark eyes I have ever seen,” he whispers, the movement of his lips causing them to brush against hers. “How could any man ever resist you?” he asks quietly, kissing the corner of her mouth. “How could any man ever say no to these perfect lips?”

She raises one eyebrow at him, feeling cocky as she whispers, “They don’t,” and he kisses her lips, sucks soft and slow. She opens her mouth and brushes her tongue against his lightly, savoring him like he’s savoring her - he’s doing things tonight that she hasn’t felt in ages, hasn’t wanted to feel until _right now_.

He pulls back and smiles at her, “Then I mustn’t feel guilty about the lascivious thoughts that are currently running through my head,” he whispers.

“Oh?” she teases, “Thoughts of what?”

He kisses her again, slides his hands down to her ass and pulls her against him suggestively as he dips his tongue into her mouth, then says, “Can’t stop thinking about how good you taste.” He kisses her again, swipes his tongue against hers, then pulls back quickly and clarifies, “And I’m not referring to your pretty mouth.”

She makes this little _mmm_ noise of approval in the back of her throat, running her hands up and down his bare arms, his shoulders, the sides of his neck. He steps back, hands on her hips as he walks them toward his bed roll, her hands in his hair as they move together. When they get to the cot, Robin reaches up her shirt in a bold move, hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and starts to slide them down. Regina thinks she should object - that’s awfully presumptuous, but thinks better of it, because who is she kidding, really? With her underwear off, he pulls her down on top of him, encouraging her to straddle his waist as they get situated.

Regina leans over him, kissing him, probing his mouth with her tongue and sliding it in deep, exploring and taking her time as she runs her hands across the hard planes of his chest. She scratches her nails against him lightly and he moans into her mouth, his hands rubbing up and down on the tops of her thighs, sliding under his shirt to swipe his thumbs across her hip bones before sweeping back down to her knees.

She grinds against him as they kiss, widening her knees to press her sex closer, but she feels his hands at the back of her thighs, tugging lightly, and he pulls his mouth back from hers as he whispers, “Come up here.”

She hesitates. Regina has certainly done her share of that position - she _is_ a queen - but she suddenly feels shy, feels unsure of Robin’s expectations, then feels foolish for feeling those feelings.

Before she can analyze further, his hand wraps around the back of her neck and he pulls her down to kiss him again, stroking his tongue across her lips and into her mouth, tugging and sucking before he pulls back and says again, “Come up here and take your pleasure, my queen. Let me taste you.”

He’s never called her that - has never said _my queen_ to her before, and it pulls this thread of arrogant ownership in Regina that ramps her up, makes her feel powerful, makes her feel deserving of this. She takes a deep breath and does as he asks, crawls up his body until she’s got a knee on each side of his head, then lowers her sex to his mouth.

He moans immediately when his lips come into contact with her, and she shivers above him, sinks down a little more as he sucks at her outer lips. He laps at her, quick flicks of his tongue right through the center of her folds, swirling at her clit, then sucking her inner lips in and tugging lightly with the suction. Her heart rate picks up, he feels - _jesus -_ he feels good. She slides her fingers through his soft hair, scratching lightly against his scalp as his hot tongue slides along her slit, then up into her, and she presses down, trying to get him deeper. He moans beneath her, the sound vibrating against her entrance via his tongue, and she squirms a little, makes these high pitched _ah-ah’s_ as he thrusts his tongue in and out, then suckles her clit. He holds the suction on her sensitive, swollen bud and runs his tongue firmly against it, quick back and forth motions that make her wet, make her grind against him and tug at his hair, pulling his head up to give her more as she pants, tells him, “Yeah, _ohhh,_ just like that.”

He lets her clit pop from his mouth to lap at the wetness she’s creating for him, runs his tongue deep into her slit, then immediately goes back to sucking at her little nub and rubbing it with his tongue. She grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it up and off, reaching up to play with her breasts, pinching and tugging her nipples to stiff peaks as Robin sucks at her. She feels good - _so good_ \- with his mouth on her, and she kneads her breasts, flicks her nipples with her thumbs and pinches them again, moaning with desire as streaks of pleasure run directly to her clit, where Robin is enthusiastically flicking his tongue against her over, and over, and over.

His hands are at her hips then, and he pulls her down harder, burying his nose and mouth in her slick, soft flesh, encouraging her to grind on him as he presses hard against her and shakes his head back and forth, moaning and digging his fingers into her when she twitches against him and moans. His short beard rubs against her inner thighs and it’s delicious, reminds her of her power in this position, and something inside of her breaks open - she tips forward onto her hands and starts swiveling against his mouth in earnest, rubbing her sex against his nose and mouth as his tongue flurries over her. Her clit is hard, swollen and throbbing with stimulation, needing her release, and she writhes faster, faster, giving up control, not caring if he can breathe, or what she looks like, or what it all means - just living for that sharp shock of pleasure that’s starting to build, chasing it with her hips as his tongue works and works her.

Regina moans, pants her excitement and starts talking, starts telling him, “Yesss, _fuck_ , yeah - like that, _jesus_ , so close, _ah, ah,_ oh god.” He doesn’t disappoint, listens to every word she says, his hands lightly gripping the toned, round muscles of her ass as she rubs herself all over him. He licks her firmly, takes advantage when she pauses for a second and sucks her clit into his mouth, and she jerks hard, grinds down on him, crying out, “Ohhh godd, yeah - don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m - I’m -” he rubs her clit firmly with his tongue, sucking hard, and she fractures - the pleasure spiking through her and making her twitch hard, but his hands hold her tight to him, pulling her sex flush against his mouth as she contracts on nothing, her clit thrumming and pulsing as he sucks and flicks at it, pulls waves of hot liquid pleasure from her to run down his chin and onto his neck. She moans loudly, gasping and begging him for _More, oh god more!_ as he suckles her, eliciting another clench of her tight sex before suddenly it becomes too much, and she shudders hard, tells him, “Oh, oh wait, please - woah.” He promptly releases her clit, licks softly against it instead and runs his tongue across her opening, lapping up her juices as as she trembles above him.

As she comes down he slides out from under her, his breaths heavy as he comes up behind her, but she’s not done, she wants more, wants his thick cock deep inside of her, so she turns quickly, shoves him down on his back and climbs him, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she drops her mouth quickly to his, sucking feverishly at his lips, licking at his scruffy, wet chin, nipping the line of his jaw and then down to suck at his pulse. He’s so hot, tastes like her, and is panting and groaning beneath her as she slides her hips down to grind on his hard bulge. God that’s good - it makes her clench, a little desperate now, so she pushes herself up, using his chest as leverage as she goes for the buttons of his trousers.

His hands are shaking as he tries to help and she slaps them away - she’s got this, she’s completely in control now, and she’s going to have his cock, going to have him deep inside of her in the next two seconds and she doesn’t need his fucking help to do it. She gets his pants open and pulls them roughly down and off, then crawls back up his body to wrap her hand around his hot flesh to give him a few, readying pumps.

He moans and thrusts up, and she grins, looking up at him through her lashes as she drops her voice low, and tells him, “You’ve been so very thoughtful tonight.” He shudders and she can hear him swallow as he stares at her hand as she strokes him. “So as a reward, your queen is going to ride you - I’m going to take you in deep, going to come on your cock, and for being so, _so_ good,” she pauses, rubs her thumb around and around the head of him, “I’m going to let you fill me with come until I can't possibly take one..more...drop...”

Robin moans and thrusts up hard, throws his head back and sucks in deep breaths through his mouth, his chest shaking as he balls his fists up and says, “Oh god, _fuck_ yes.”

She turns then, puts her back to him as she straddles him and drags her wet center across his cock, and he groans a clipped, “ _Fuck”_ as he realizes she intends to ride him this way, giving him the view of that perfect ass he likes to tease so much. Then she shifts forward, positions him and slides down, taking him all the way in, shuddering as he stretches her wide. She braces her hands on his thighs as she shifts up and down for a few, slow strokes, then grinds down hard, swiveling her hips around and around on his thick length as she stimulates her sensitive, aching core.

Her breaths are coming hard already, she’s still worked up, still so, so sensitive from her first orgasm that this isn’t going to take much, especially not at the speed she has planned. Regina shifts up, starts rocking up and down the length of him, and his hands find her ass, squeezing her as she takes him deep.

She ramps up quickly, finding a rhythm that hits her just right as she works her sex up and down his length, leaning forward to wrap her fingers around his shins, thighs flexing as she goes, and she’s completely wrapped up in the moment, wrapped up in the white hot pleasure that he’s increasing with every stroke, every nudge against that sensitive spot deep inside of her. Pleasure floods her, making her wet, making her slide down him with no resistance at all, and her chest flushes hot, nipples tightening with the rush.  Her breasts shake and sway as she moves, as she moans loudly, moving faster, faster, getting closer, closer still, listening to his ragged breaths as he groans and says, “ _Christ_ , ohh, _fuc-k."_ She’s right there - _oh god_ \- right on the edge of it, the heat spreading, she just needs him to hit her _right there_ , so she throws herself upright, brings one hand up to lift the heavy strands of her hair off her neck, the other slides down past her belly to rub frantically at her clit, as she grinds down hard on him, bouncing faster and faster, her smooth, toned thighs working hard as she takes him, his hips thrusting up into her as she descends, driving him deep, as she moans and tugs at her hair.

Suddenly the hot, wet heat rushes over, and she arches her back hard, riding him for a few more strokes, then slamming down, swiveling and rocking against him, flurrying across her clit, taking him deep as her inner walls contract. She shudders, gyrates shamelessly as she starts to quiver and loses all rhythm, just grinds and grinds on him as she comes, clenching on him so - _goddd_ \- **so hard** , her body unable to force him out as she presses down, down, keeping him deep as she spasms around him. He’s shaking under her, moaning out, “Oh, god, _oh fuck_ -” and she encourages him, wants him to come as she’s coming, tells him breathlessly, “Come inside me, fill me,” followed by a loud, “ _Ohhhh!_ ” as he thrusts up. She’s so tight, so constricted around him that she feels the hot gush, feels his long, thick length pulse as he shudders up into her, his hands hard on her hips, tugging her down so he can stay deep, his knees bent as he thrusts up into her.

They both shudder in the aftermath, and she’s loathe to move, loves the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her - she’s so much tighter than when they started, is swollen and hot from her climax, and he’s extra deep, the spasms of her orgasm and his hard thrusts having kept him _way_ up in her, even now as he softens and her inner walls relax. She wants him to stay in her, wants this moment to last forever, this moment where she feels strong, controlled, and powerful, even without the mask of the Evil Queen.

“ _Christ_ … wish I could stay in you,” he murmurs behind her, stroking his hands down her ass, and she almost moans with the coincidence, stunned that they always seem to be on the same page when it comes to each other’s body.

She makes a low _mmm_ in her throat, circles her hips one more time before reluctantly sliding off of him, his come dripping from her, making a mess, but she doesn’t care, because he reaches for her immediately, pulls her up next to him and kisses her lips sweetly as she settles in. She can feel his hot come continuing to run from her, and it’s a little uncomfortable but she’s too blissed out to do anything about it just now, too interested in the sweet, sucking kisses he’s giving her as he wraps his arms around her and rolls her onto her back. His hand drifts down, runs across her ribs and stomach, stroking her, then he slides his fingers through her sensitive, slick folds, dips two of them up into her and she moans, hisses with overstimulation as she thrusts up, clenching on him. He dips his fingers in and out a few times, playing with her more than anything, then pulls his hand from her and holds it up in front of him. His fingers are coated in his come, mixed with her own creamy fluid, and he just stares at it for a second before he looks down and grins at her, says, “Jesus, babe, look how pretty your come is, mixed with mine.”

She laughs softly, tells him to, “Shut up,” because he’s an idiot, and there’s nothing “pretty” about the thick white liquid coating his fingers. But he certainly seems to think so, so she gives him a little show, pulls his hand to her mouth and sucks his fingers clean. He moans, whispers “Fucking hell,” as she sucks and swirls her tongue around him, and when she’s done, she pulls his head down to kiss him hard, slipping her tongue into his mouth and sharing the taste of what she just cleaned up.

His blankets are soft and warm as he covers them, and he kisses her again, whispers, _stunning_ against her lips as her heart rate evens out, and she smiles against his mouth as he gives her one last, soft kiss before he tucks her against his chest, and she drifts off to sleep.

 

 


	12. The Protectiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - reference/implication of past abuse

 

Chapter Eleven - The Protectiveness 

  


“Why hearts?” he asks out of the blue, as they trot their horses down the long, smooth forest path.

“I beg your pardon?” Regina replies, certain he’s not asking what she thinks he’s asking.

“I can understand the fire, and the telekinesis, but why rip out hearts? Why not just, I dunno, break necks?” he’s blatantly curious as he asks, doesn’t show a hint of the fear she’s so used to when someone references her magic.

“First of all, I _can_ break necks,” she clarifies, and he snorts. She cracks a devious smile and lets her voice lower, makes it sultry smooth as she looks at him, “But heart-ripping has advantages that instant death does not.”

“Such as?” he prompts, and she tilts her head, suspicion creeping up her spine.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks, looking hard at him, trying to discern what he might be hiding.

“Well for starters, you ripped mine out once, and that Huntsman’s. I’m curious what you could have done with it, had you not made a deal with me.” Robin’s voice is even and open, doesn’t sound at all like he’s hiding anything.

She takes a deep breath and decides to educate him. “Removing a heart gives me options - the most obvious choice is to crush it, or to pull it without enchanting it at all, which achieves the same outcome. But if instead I decide to keep the enchanted heart, I can command the victim’s actions and speech for as long as the heart is under my control.”

“Like possession?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“No, not quite. The heartless can still live their lives - I don’t control everything - but when I want to, I can make them do my bidding. And of course there is the added benefit that they cannot feel their true emotions, so even if they wanted to object, they don’t have the emotional capacity to justify resistance.” She says this with a casual shrug, as if she’s discussing the weather, or local politics.

“Wow,” he says quietly, and she wonders what he thinks about that, wonders if he’ll be afraid of her now.

 

Regina doesn’t say anything more, just continues to post rhythmically in the saddle as they close the distance between them and Cora.

“Who pulled yours out?” he asks, a little later as the sun is starting to drift toward the westward treeline.

She hesitates. Does he realize how many personal questions he’s asked her over the past few days? How much information she has given him that she’s never given anyone else?

“I did,” she says quietly, and when she looks at him, his brow is furrowed tightly, head tilted as he stares at her. “What?” she snaps, suddenly irritated.

“I just, I wonder why you’d take the risk, when you could have just kept it in your chest instead,” he replies.

Regina sighs and looks straight ahead. How can she tell him that her heart was so broken, held so much despair over Daniel that she couldn’t stand to even look at it, much less keep it inside of her? How can she tell him that she’d rather die than have it in her chest again, that she’s terrified if she puts it back in, she’ll collapse from the sorrow that’s infected the thick, black muscle?

It seems he’s not actually waiting for her justification though, because then he asks, “How long since you’ve had it in?”

“You certainly ask a lot of questions that you’ve absolutely no right, nor reason to ask,” she snaps. He huffs loudly, and as annoyed as she is with him, she also can’t seem to justify not answering him. She lets the awkward silence drag out for a good ten minutes though, just to punish him, before she once again gives in. “Five years,” she admits, “Just after I banished my mother.”

His eyebrows shoot heavenward, and he takes a slow, deep breath before he asks, “You’ve been without true emotions for five years?”

“You can save your judgment for someone who cares, _Thief_ ,” she barks, angry at his reaction.  

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” he says quickly, “I did not mean to judge. I’m, well I’m… curious,” he says quickly, “How do you even know what your true emotions are now, with so much time having past since you last felt them?”

 

Well, he’s got her there.

 

Regina hasn’t thought much about it. She’s grown so used to the numb feeling in her chest, the dull ache in the back of her mind that she honestly doesn’t know what her true emotions would be, were she to return her heart to her chest. She assumes the grief would overwhelm her, but the Thief has a point - she can’t know for sure anymore, too much time has passed.

“Perhaps when we retrieve the wretched thing, we’ll find out,” she says seriously, and he gives her a solemn nod as the sun sets below the treeline, bathing them in shadow as they push onward.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When they stop to make camp for the night, there is an awkward moment of uncertainty. Regina’s tent is still damp, her bedroll spotted with burn marks and other… _things_ that make it less than attractive to sleep in. As she reaches for the pack strapped to the saddle, she hesitates, and Robin catches her eye from across the small fire he’s made.

“Is it still wet?” he asks quietly, and Regina nods, leaves out the fact that she could dry it, she could easily conjure a new tent, a new bedroll, should she choose to do so.

“Well, mine maintains its integrity,” he continues, “And, if you don’t mind my saying so, the nightmares seem to abate when we share,” he meets her gaze with his own steady one. She thinks she should be embarrassed, or angry with him for his observation, and she would be, except that it’s true. When she sleeps next to him, she doesn’t dream - whether that’s due to his mere presence, or the fact that every time she’s “shared” with him, he’s just thoroughly pleasured her into nirvana, she can’t say.

She sighs, rubs her hands over her face and tries to convince herself that it’s a bad idea. That she’s being weak and foolish for letting him anywhere near her, that she needs to stop letting him _in_ her.

“Believe it or not, I _can_ keep my hands to myself, Your Majesty, if that is the cause for your hesitation,” he says, amusement in his eyes as he smirks at her.

She cocks an eyebrow and rakes her gaze hotly over him as she says softly, “We’ll see,” and just like that, the decision is made.

 

When they turn in for the night, she finds herself once again in his long sleeve shirt, her back pressed tightly to his bare chest as he spoons her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist as they settle.

She’s having a hard time falling asleep, feels wired and a little awkward curled up with him without having done any _other_ activities first, and she can’t help but shift around as she tries to force herself to relax. His fingers splay against her stomach, flexing and caressing softly for a few minutes, his breath warming the back of her head, and when she still doesn’t settle he pulls her a little tighter to him and asks quietly, “Of all the magic you are capable of, what’s your most favorite part?”

“Shapeshifting,” she whispers honestly, before she can think of something better, something more aggressive or devastating, something that might seem more characteristic of the Evil Queen.

“Oh?” he follows, fingers stroking along her stomach, up and down, up and down. “What about it makes it your favorite?”

Regina takes a deep breath and thinks about her favorite spell. “I suppose it’s because it gives me the ability to be something else for a while,” she says quietly.

He _hmm’s_ against the back of her head and states, “Freedom.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, it feels weak to admit that that is exactly what she meant.

“Might I ask, what are you able to shapeshift into?” he asks, then follows quickly with, “I apologize if that is too forward of a question, Milady.”

She runs her fingers over the back of his hand on her stomach, smoothing the pads of her fingertips across it as he continues to touch her so, so softly.

“A mouse,” she tells him, “A cobra,” she waits to feel him tense against her, “A raven.” Regina pauses, but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t stop running his fingers across her in that soothing rhythmic motion, so she asks, “Does that frighten you?”

He presses a kiss to the back of her head and his fingers tighten on her as he says, “No, darling… it amazes me.”

She settles back against him and they fall into comfortable silence, his hand stroking longer and longer paths down her side, lulling her into sleep. He’s true to his word - aside from his hand moving softly across her hip and stomach, he doesn’t touch her inappropriately, and for the first time in two days, she doesn’t dream.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next two days pass much the same, with scattered conversation that pushes the envelope between personal and neutral as they draw ever nearer to Cora. Regina learns Robin’s mother died when he was young, a boy of only seven, and she tells him of her father’s death, which was brought upon, unsurprisingly, by her mother’s wrath. They discuss the challenges of growing up with one, slightly psychotic parent, and she learns he was an only child, same as her.

 

The Queen and the Thief have much in common, and it makes her feel, for the first time in forever, just a little less lonely.

 

She has come to accept that strange, familiar feeling she gets with him, accepts that it is likely because of all their similarities, and she lets herself enjoy his company now, even starts to hope that he lives through the confrontation with Cora. It might be nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t have ulterior motives, someone who understands her as much as she can expect another person to, and, if she’s being completely honest, she hopes she gets the opportunity to keep him in her bed from time to time.

They don’t discuss the fact that Robin only sets up one tent now each night, nor do they discuss the fact that while Regina could conjure herself any number of nightdresses, she continues to sleep in his shirt. As they settle in, tucked up tight in his bedroll on the eve before they reach Cora, Regina feels a sick sense of fear, of anticipation and dread. She doesn’t want to see her mother, had hoped when she threw her through the looking glass that she’d never have to look upon her again. She worries about her mother’s motives, wonders if this is all a trap to get Regina to come to her, wonders what is in store for poor little Roland, who is totally innocent in all of this.

“I can feel your concern radiating from you,” Robin whispers into her hair, tightening his arms around her waist as he spoons her.

“Sorry,” she whispers back, shifting a little closer to him and huffing out a sigh.

“There’s no value in fretting tonight,” he says softly, “Calm minds lead to clear thoughts, something I am certain we will both need tomorrow.”

Regina nods, takes a deep breath and tries, really tries to think of nothing. He strokes his hand slowly up and down her side, soothing her, and after a while, she falls asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She's having the _Daniel_ dream again.

 

The familiar sequence flashes before her eyes in hazy, red-tinged horror, the scene playing out exactly how it always does. Regina rips out Daniel’s heart at her mother’s command, begging her to stop, begging for his life before she’s forced to crush the organ to ash. The action quickly infects her hands with the sticky black mass of evil, which spreads to her heart, irreversibly corrupting her as she screams Daniel’s name and falls to her hands and knees. Leopold appears and strikes her, her body jerking with the contact of his fist as he punishes her, and she screams in anticipation of the next part, screams bloody murder as she feels his hands wrap around her naked hips, pulling her back, she screams and -

Her eyes fly open, and she’s fighting - _he will not have her this time, he will not have her again_ \-  thrashing, and kicking, and screaming against whatever is holding her down, until she finally hears Robin, finally comes awake enough to recognize the Thief’s voice yelling her name.

She’s shaking, trembling hard under him as he straddles her hips, his grip punishing around her wrists as he fights her hands from striking him, finally getting the better of her and yanking both arms to his chest, where he holds tightly and says her name, over and over, until her awareness overcomes her terror.

“ _Robin,_ ” she gasps desperately, pulling out of the nightmare, finally understanding what’s going on.

“Breathe, darling,” he says quietly above her, pressing her hands to his chest so that she opens her palms, can feel his heartbeat and his chest expanding and contracting beneath her fingertips.

Regina flexes her fingers against him, shaking hard, embarrassed, and fighting the adrenaline that fueled her fight or flight instincts. “Breathe with me,” he coaxes, his voice softer, and when his blue eyes lock on hers, she’s powerless to stop the shimmer of comfort that flows through her.

She tries to take a deep breath but her lungs hitch and she only manages a quick, harsh inhale as the air catches in her throat. She tries again and fails, starts to hyperventilate as she loses control of her emotions, and watches, mortified, as his expression turns helpless.

He shifts suddenly, slides back off her hips so that he’s sitting between her legs, and drops his hold on her arms as he grabs for her waist. He hauls her up into a sitting position and pulls, manhandling her with no resistance because she can’t even breathe, let alone fight whatever the hell he’s doing. He gets her up, pulls her legs wide and hauls her into his lap so her legs are wrapped around his waist, her belly and chest flush against his, her arms encircle his shoulders as he wraps his own tightly around her, so tight that she isn’t quite sure where she ends and he begins. She can feel his every breath right against her chest now, and he presses one hand to her back, the other to the back of her head, pulling her hard into him, and it works - all she can feel, all she can think about, is his chest moving against hers. She finally gets a full breath, then another, and she buries her face into his neck as he rocks side to side, slides the hand on her back up and down soothingly as he whispers, “That's it, my darling, as long as you’re in my arms, you’ve nothing to fear.”

Robin rocks and comforts her, strokes her back and her hair for what feels like hours - for what could _very well be_ hours - until she stops shaking and slowly returns to herself. She swallows thickly, licks her dry lips and lets her forehead rest against the top of his shoulder as she calms. She whispers, “Thank you,” against the soft skin of his neck before she kisses him there, lets herself linger against his warmth and breathe in his pine scent, then brushes her nose against his neck before kissing him there again.

He stops stroking her and tightens his arms, hugging her close for a beat as he stops rocking. She pulls back to look at him, and is surprised when his expression appears to be completely, utterly conflicted.

“What’s wrong?” she asks quickly, cupping his face between her hands and stroking her thumbs across his cheekbones. A wave of anxiety rushes through her, perhaps she has taken too much, has been too needy and he’s having second thoughts about what they’re doing. She bites her lip, and his eyes are so, so serious as he looks at her that gooseflesh breaks across her chest in reaction.

“I would kill him,” he says quietly, his voice a low rumble, his expression looking even more conflicted than he did a second ago. His hands flex on her back, and she furrows her brow as she strokes his jaw, asks him what he means, and he repeats, “I would kill him, Regina, I would fucking kill Leopold for _ever_ touching you.”

 

Her breath catches and the world stills around her.

 

She’s had men kill for her before. Many times. Has had men throw themselves at her mercy for just a chance to kiss her hand, for the opportunity to gain one moment of her favor.

 

But this is different.

 

In this moment, there is only Robin and Regina - _not_ the Thief, _not_ the Queen, _not_ the famous and feared monarch that leaves a path of destruction everywhere she goes. In this moment, she is a just a woman with night terrors, who has pieced herself together the best she could. A woman who has fought, and struggled, scratched and clawed for every ounce of happiness she has ever had, and he is just a man who helps her breathe, who tries to get to know her, who makes her laugh, and pushes back when she pushes him.

He’s a man who is holding her, who _right now_ is looking at her like he might be in love with her.

Regina swallows thickly, licks her lips and says, “He’s been dead for years, Robin - it’s okay.”

He cuts in, his voice rough with a hysterical edge to it as his fingers dig into her back, and he says, “No - no it’s _not_ okay. It’s not bloody okay for one bloody second. It’s not okay _now_ , and it’s not okay _then_ , and I’d cut his _fucking hands off_ for touching you, I’d cut his _fucking head off_ for just _looking at you_.”

She feels like she might cry. Her eyes are hot, and suddenly wet as she sits in his lap, wrapped around him as his protectiveness of her radiates from him. She strokes his jaw and presses a soft kiss to his lips, then another, before pulling back to whisper, “Stop, you don’t know what you’re saying - it’s late.”

The confliction on his face turns into a scowl, and then his hands are in her hair, pulling her to him as he kisses her hard, tugs and sucks at her lips desperately, then pulls back and says, “I know what I’m saying, Regina. Believe me, I fucking know.” Then he kisses her again, and she moans into his mouth, her own emotions getting the best of her as he shifts, lays her on her back as he settles over her, kissing her deep, his mouth changing from desperate to languid as the minutes tick by.

He’s hard against her hip, but they don’t do anything about it. What they’re doing isn’t about sex, and Regina refuses to identify what it _is_ about.

Because it’s much too soon for _that_. It’s much too soon to think the things she’s thinking, to feel the things she’s feeling. It’s much too soon to acknowledge what he’s acknowledging for them.

Their kisses turn to slow, lingering presses as they lay together, and she lets herself kiss him the way she wants, lets herself be completely wrapped up in him. She’s probably going to die tomorrow, or worse, so what does it matter if she kisses him like she’s in love with him? What does it matter if she caresses his face, strokes the sides of his neck, and holds him down on top of her as if she wants him like this for the rest of her life?

Their kisses slow, slow, slow, until they’re not even kissing anymore, they’re just laying together - her leg tucked between his, resting her head on his bicep as his other arm wraps around her waist. Regina falls asleep against him, against her Thief, with her lips against his and breathing his breath as she lets go, loses herself in the night, and lets everything fade away.

 

 


	13. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - violence and gore

 

 

Chapter Twelve -The Battle 

  


The manor is large, with beautifully manicured gardens bracketing it, and it rises grandly, three stories high, in the large valley in which it sits.

Robin was apparently not exaggerating when he told her he was familiar with the estate. As they stay hidden in the shadow of the forest, he points out entrances to her, sketches a map on a large piece of parchment showing her where he thinks Roland is being kept, where the vault is that most likely holds Regina’s heart, and the most obvious locations where Cora might be.  

Regina probes with her magic to discern what protective enchantments Cora has erected, and finds only a simple barrier spell, which she can easily overcome. It’s hard to say whether the lack of defense means that Cora is, or is not, expecting them - she’s a clever woman and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s tricked Regina into letting her guard down.

They wait for the cover of night to make their move, their plan firmly in place to separate upon entry - Robin will go for Roland, then her heart, Regina will head straight for Cora, and if they both survive, they’ll regroup here with the horses to make their escape. Regina takes several minutes to prepare, uses magic to primp a little extra, refusing to admit that she’s doing it to impress her mother. She conjures a flowing, black velvet dress with a high, stiff, bejeweled collar and a respectful, but equally jeweled neckline, not wanting to expose any more of her skin than need be under the circumstances. She creates a black, heavily feathered cloak with embellished sleeves, long, matching leather gloves, and fixes her ebony hair up, soft and swept back from her face, adorned with black and red feathers. She paints a red lip to match the feathers, and perfects the rest of her makeup, ensuring that her mother can have nothing to say about her appearance, for she is picture perfect, beautiful regality in this outfit.

When she’s finished, she finds Robin busy tucking daggers into every available space of his armor, his quiver full and strapped to his back, long hooded cloak donned and a look of severe concentration on his face. She might smile at his seriousness, were the circumstances different, were she a little more confident that she might walk out of this confrontation without having caused mass destruction against her will.

She waits while he slides one last dagger down the side of his boot and rights himself, then smirks when his gaze falls on her. His jaw comedically drops, breath puffing out his cheeks as he looks her over, then says, his voice gravelly, “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Her smile broadens as he steps up to her, dragging his eyes across the beautiful fabric of the dress and finally up to her face. “Wish I’d realized you were going for the full effect,” he says quietly, “I’d have been sure to kiss you a few more times before you painted those gorgeous lips into teasing perfection.”

She tilts her head, brings one gloved hand up to stroke his jawline as she says, “If you’re really, _really_ careful not to smudge, I’ll let you have one more before we go.” It’s a joke, honestly, she can fix her makeup with the twitch of her fingers, but she likes challenging him, likes seeing his interest and determination mount as he stares longingly at her lips.

He slides his hands through the opening in her cloak to settle on her waist, rubbing softly over the velvet as he looks down into her eyes. She can’t help feeling that flutter of affection as she stares up at him, waiting for his kiss, but he goes still for a moment, his eyes traveling her face before he says, “Regina, you are undoubtedly the Queen in _every_ aspect of the word,” he pauses, slides his hands around to her back to pull her up against him, “Now let’s show your mother just what that Evil moniker stands for.”

Her confidence surges, a wicked grin spreads across her face, and he drops his mouth to hers, decidedly _not_ careful as he kisses her hard. He licks at her lips, sucks the top, then the bottom one, strokes his tongue in against hers and along the roof of her mouth, before taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting down, then sucking on it again. He scrapes his teeth against her tender, wet flesh as he pulls back, then dives in again and kisses her, again - again - again, until she’s certain her lipstick is entirely gone, her cheeks flushed, and her breath short when he finally steps back.

She smirks as she takes in his lipstick stained mouth, reaching out and rubbing some of the bright red from his lips, his kisses chasing her thumb as she slides it across his mouth. She re-applies her lipstick with a wink and a flick of her wrist, then turns from him, ready for what is to come, ready to face off with her mother in a fight for her own heart.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Things go sideways almost immediately.

 

Their plan to separate upon entry is instantly thrown into the fire, for when Robin picks the side door lock and they step in, they’re immediately met with a houseful of Cora’s Heartless subjects, which are armed to the teeth and crazed with Cora’s command that is quite obviously, “kill on sight”.

Fire flares in Regina’s hands, her strong magic swirling around her, but she has of yet to use very much of it.

Because Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, the most famous Outlaw in all of Sherwood, is an absolute Ace.

He’s firing arrows with his enchanted bow, and throwing daggers so fast that Regina has almost nothing to do. Every shot he takes is true, dropping servants, and guards, and kitchen staff, one right after the other, sometimes two at a time, with arrows or throwing knives straight through the eye, or the throat, or in one case, the back of the head.

Regina grins as he flurries around her, the twang of his bowstring loud, a perfect killing machine as she strides arrogantly forward, flicking her fingers here and there to freeze enemies for him as she continues into the manor, intent on her mission to get to Cora.

She’s headed for the main floor great hall, an obvious location for her mother to lurk, Robin for the third-floor bedrooms to find Roland, so when they finally reach the main stairwell, it’s time to separate. He slits the throat of the last guard in their path, then gives her a nod as he dashes up the stairs, leaving her alone to face her mother.

She’s feeling good, even though their original plan didn’t quite go the way they’d anticipated. Her magic reserves are full, she feels strong, powerful, ready to fight her mother if she has to, ready to deflect whatever punishment and plans Cora is ready to fire at her.

 

She throws open the doors of the great hall with a burst of magic energy that causes them to tear right off their hinges, her head held high as she stalks in with long, sure strides, a gorgeous vision in black, as she scans for enemies and for Cora.

Her mother makes it easy on her, a dozen guards or so come at her simultaneously from all directions, and Regina pauses, swirls her magic around her in a giant serpent of fire, and incinerates all of them, still a good ten steps from her.

Then it’s just her and Cora.

“Regina, my dear, what a pleasure to see you!” Cora greets her with a big smile, as if she isn’t an abusive psychopath, as if she hasn’t stolen Regina’s heart, as if she doesn’t have terrible, wicked plans for all of them.

“If only I could say the same, Mother,” Regina snarls. She’s not going to play this game, she’s not going to pretend she’s here for any other reason than for retribution.

Cora sighs, an edge immediately in her tone as she says, “I never could get you to understand how important a proper greeting is.”  

There are large tapestries hanging against the edges of the hall, beautiful depictions of Sherwood history, showcasing the vast forest and unique foliage the kingdom is so well known for. In each corner of the room are huge, stone soldiers with bows at the ready, arrows nocked, frozen in time as if a breath away from releasing the sharp looking sticks. The hall is large, with smooth, polished marble floors and a three-story ceiling that's crisscrossed with giant wooden beams. On any other occasion, Regina would have to admit that it's a beautiful room, but today is not a day for such appreciation. Cora is seated at the back of the hall in a large chair, a throne really, that she most certainly has brought from Wonderland. It is ornate and gold plated, huge heart-shaped rubies encrusted in it as accents, blood red cushions on the seat, back, and armrests as Cora sits perfectly upright, the epitome of the Queen of Hearts.

“At least you’ve learned to dress appropriately in my absence,” Cora continues, staring hard at Regina, her eyes squinting as she looks her over. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“You know perfectly well why I’m here,” Regina bites, “Shall we skip the games for once?” She pauses for effect, then pierces Cora with her most angry, serious look as she demands, “Give me what I came for, or I will raise this manor to the ground, I will take everything you’ve built here, I will use every ounce of my power to destroy your happiness, if it is the last thing I do.” Regina's low voice ends as a growl, and she has never been more serious in her life.

Across the room, Cora has the audacity to laugh. “My, my,” she says, “You certainly have toughened up. I almost believe you have the spine to follow through on your little threats. It’s a good thing I made you proficient at that fireball,” she smirks.

Regina bites her tongue and lets her mother’s bait fall flat. When Cora sees that Regina isn’t about to respond, she gives her an eye-roll and stands, raising both hands in the air as she says, sounding exasperated, “I honestly don’t know what it is you want from me, Regina.”

Her mother’s magic suddenly slams into her, drags her across the floor as Cora pulls Regina to her, dangling helplessly a foot off the marble floor as Cora examines her.

“Ah, my darling daughter,” she says with mock sincerity, “I do appreciate you making this easy on me, I didn’t anticipate that you’d make such a huge mistake so soon after I returned,” she says, and Regina’s eyes widen in fear as red magic swirls around Cora’s fingers, as if she is readying to rip out Regina’s heart.

 

Regina furrows her brow in confusion, summoning her own magic, pushing it up against the barrier that Cora has engulfed her in, viciously fighting her mother’s hold. Cora’s eyes widen, surprised it seems, at Regina’s magical strength, and with a huge purple burst of energy, Regina breaks the hold, skidding backward across the marble floor on her heels with the force of the action.

 

Everything is a whirlwind of magic then, as Cora throws fireballs at Regina, which she deflects with a shield made of pure, golden energy, while simultaneously conjuring swords, staves, and knives, which she hurls at Cora, causing her to duck, deflect, and sidestep quickly to avoid being stabbed.

Cora laughs, her tone utterly condescending as she says, “Well done, Regina! Just look what you’re capable of when you concentrate!”

Regina’s temper rises, hating her mother, hating that she’s forcing her to fight her, hating her taunting, arrogant tone, hating the way she makes her feel like a helpless child again. The anger enhances her magic, pushes her conjuration of sharp objects faster, faster, until dozens of weapons are at her disposal, forcing Cora to teleport about the room, dodging from one end to the other, the clang of the weapons loud against the stone walls as Regina leans into the magic, chasing Cora with fireballs now too. She’s got the upper hand, will have Cora on her knees soon, Regina’s magic is more powerful, she has more stamina and more natural ability than her mother, and she snaps, “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Cora is smart, though, and shrewd - she must sense that she’s losing control of the situation, because she reverts to rudimentary magic - raises chairs, plates and cups from the nearby tables, channeling them at Regina, forcing her to move, to pull up another energy shield to protect herself from the objects that come from all directions. She’s not quite fast enough, takes the brunt of a pewter mug to her left brow, which splits her skin open with the sharp force, a hot trickle of blood running down and into her eye, blinding her, as she continues to fight. The blood stings and she’s forced to stop to wipe at it, to try to clear her vision before casting more fire, but Cora is unrelenting, and Regina watches in horror as her mother raises her hand in a huge fireball that will surely be the end of her.

 

Suddenly there is movement from her right, and Regina is shocked to see the Thief’s arrow pierce straight through Cora’s hand, making her shriek in pain, the fireball snuffing out, before Robin is dragged into the room by her mother’s magic.

Cora throws him against a tapestry and the vines woven into the fabric come to life, wrapping around Robin’s arms, legs, neck and torso, covering him and squeezing tightly. Regina hesitates, she does not want Robin to die, but she needs to take Cora down first - she can’t do both, Cora is too strong to fight while Regina is distracted.

Regina bears down, forces herself to look away from the Thief, to ignore his screams and the sound of his bones breaking, one by one, as the vines constrict around him. She’s so close to besting Cora she can taste it - she hits her with a huge wave of purple energy that throws her mother right up against her throne, knocking it over, and Regina charges forward, intent on grabbing her up with magical immobilization, but Cora surprises her, teleports in a red swirl of smoke just as Regina casts the spell, and when Cora reappears, Regina immediately stops.

Cora is in front of Robin, panting, hair disheveled from their fight, one hand bleeding, anger and malice in her eyes as she shoves her good hand into Robin’s chest and rips his heart out.

“Please tell me, Regina,” Cora says, breathless, “That you are not here with this man. That you are not attacking your own mother in order to help this insignificant man get his son back.”

Regina doesn’t say anything, because it’s partially true, and her mother will see right through her if she lies.

Cora’s temper flares at her silence and she squeezes Robin’s heart. He’s already moaning in agony as the vines constrict on his arms and legs, snapping yet another of his bones, so the pressure on his heart only serves to make him scream louder.

“What is it you want with the child, Mother? Why is he so important to you?” Regina asks, trying to divert her mother’s attention, trying to buy time for Robin while she figures out what to do. She knows that Cora loves nothing more than to gloat about how clever she is - so Regina plays on that weakness.

Cora grins evilly at her, sure of her upper hand as she divulges, “Since you so selfishly stripped me of my right to grandchildren, you’ve given me no choice but to start over, Regina. The child is the perfect age to start learning magic, is of noble blood - though you’d never know it from looking at his father - and he’s the same age as King John’s daughter. By the time I’m through with him, he’ll be a man who appreciates the gift I’ve given him. A man, my _grandchild_ , who will be King. Who will create a dynasty to ensure the power of his family, who isn’t a complete failure in every form of the word.”

“You’re forgetting something, Mother,” Regina snaps, “You have no idea how to raise a child, no idea how to gain loyalty and trust. He’ll turn out the same way I did - an enemy who hates everything that you are, and then you’ll have two of us to contend with.”

Cora scoffs, sweeps her eyes over Regina as if disgusted with her as she says, “When I’m through with the boy, I’ll have your kingdom _and_ your head, my dear, for there will be no room for _mistakes_ \- ” she pauses to make it clear she means _Regina_ by this “- in the united kingdoms of Misthaven and Sherwood.”

 

Regina grits her teeth in outrage. She _hates_ her mother. _Hates_ her.

 

Cora squeezes Robin’s heart again - this is it, she’s going to kill him - and “Wait!” escapes from Regina’s lips before she can think better of it. It’s a mistake, she _knows_ it’s a giant mistake, but it’s done now, and she feels like a seventeen-year-old girl again, begging for a boy’s life, as Cora looks at her in complete disappointment.

“Stupid Girl!” she scowls, “Didn’t you learn your lesson after the debacle with that worthless stable boy? All this time I hoped that if there was one, single lesson I’d succeeded in teaching you, it was that you finally understood that love is weakness.” Cora squeezes Robin’s heart harder, close to crushing it again, and Regina’s pulse hammers, she’s got to do something, something fast, or it’ll be too late for the Thief.

“But here you are,” Cora snarls, disdain dripping from every word as she shakes her head at Regina, “Still whoring yourself like a peasant and throwing everything away for your pathetic need to be _loved_.”

The anger that flares through Regina is incomparable to any rage she has ever felt in her entire life.

 

In her fury, the Evil Queen has decimated entire villages, has cast fire so intense that it incinerated pure steel, has raised thousands of gallons of water and drowned acres upon acres of crops in her vengeance against Snow White.

 

The hatred Regina feels for her mother in this moment is ten times, is _ten thousand_ times, greater than any of those other instances.

Her mind’s eye flashes rapidly - images of her father, of times he encouraged her, protected her, made her feel special; images of Daniel - of kissing him, of riding horses, and cuddling, and feeling happy for the first time ever; images of Robin - of fucking, and talking, and laughing, of holding him tightly, and falling asleep in his arms.

 

The magic flares from her palms - bright, sparkling purple energy that engulfs Regina, jerking her up so she’s levitating three feet off the ground, the glow making her look divine, making her appear utterly ethereal as it swirls across her beautiful, ebony-clad form, and her mother’s eyes widen in disbelief as she stares at her daughter, at the powerful sorceress she just dubbed a complete disappointment.

Regina brings both hands out in front of her, the magic so bright at the source of her palms that it is blinding white, and she lets the rage fill her, lets it build and boil over as she tells Cora in a husky, taunting voice, “If love is weakness, Mother,” she leans forward, narrowing her eyes as she snarls, “Here’s some strength for you.” She brings her hands toward her chest then shoves them forward, sending a wave of energy so powerful that Cora’s attempt at a magic shield is instantly shattered when their magic connects - the force of Regina’s magic smashing through it with zero resistance, rendering Cora completely helpless against the punishing momentum of the blast. Her body hurtles clear across the room as she screams her surprise, and there is a sickening, wet thumping sound when her body is finally brought to a halt, gruesomely impaled on one of the large stone statues. The sharp arrow is shoved straight through her chest, her wretched, evil heart split in two and hemorrhaging wildly, causing blood to pour down, soaking her beautiful gown, the look of pure shock still on her face as she stares at Regina, at the Evil Queen, at the monster that she created, until death finally takes her, her head dropping forward as the life drains from her body.

Regina comes back to her feet a little roughly, but still able to catch herself as she lands on the smooth marble. She stalks quickly to her mother’s body, rips the pieces of Cora’s heart from her chest and immediately crushes them to ash, for she will take no chances of her coming back to life.

 

Then she returns to Robin, retrieves his heart from where it was knocked from Cora’s hand when she was thrown across the room, and she returns it to him, taking care for the first time ever to try not to hurt him as she does it. She reverses the phytokinesis spell on the vines that are crushing him, cringing as he screams in agony, and trying desperately to support his body as he crumbles to the floor.

He’s delirious with the pain, trying to writhe and move in a way that is less painful, but too many of his bones are broken - some have shoved through his skin, others are pressing up hard against it, and she hurts for him, but they have to get out of here - she has no idea what other enemies could be hidden in this place and she does not have the magical stamina to continue to fight.

“Robin,” she says, trying to keep her voice calm, “Where is Roland?”

He gasps, tears running down the sides of his face as his breath catches hard, but he grits out, “Horses,” to her, and that’s enough - she can come back for the boy if he’s hidden with their mounts.

“And my heart?” she asks, “Did you find it?”

He nods, gasps out, “With Roland, just in case,” and through his pain he smiles weakly at her, tries and fails to raise one broken hand to her face, as he rasps, “So proud of you.”

Regina breaks down immediately, a sob wrenching from her chest as she stares at him, the first person to utter those words to her since her father died. She’s weak from the massive amount of magic she used to fight Cora, running on reserves now, and she still has to teleport them all out of here, but she digs deep, presses her hands to him and concentrates hard. She wants to do this, _needs_ to do this for him because he deserves it, because he’s dying solely for helping her, and she will not let another man perish at her mother’s hand, will not let him die simply for being kind to her. So she gives it everything she has, pushes the magic from her fingers and into him, healing his fatally punctured organs, setting a few of the worst breaks, and healing several minor bones completely to alleviate the pressure and pain caused from the horrific misalignments as her healing spell washes over him.

It’s exhausting - he’s hurt too badly and she’s used too much magic to be able to heal him entirely - but she continues, forcing herself to give more, _more_ , until she sees relief wash over his face, and he allows his body to settle against the cool marble floor.

Regina takes a deep breath and takes him home - teleports him directly to her bed, sends for the healer, then immediately returns for Roland.

The boy is small, altogether adorable with dark curling hair, and clearly afraid of her when she appears in a swirl of smoke. So Regina speaks softly to him, gets to her knees so she is at his level, and coaxes him over by relaying the secret code Robin has told her to give him. The boy gives her the thumping sack that contains her heart, then takes her hand as she pulls the very last of her magic up and teleports them home. She has just enough energy to set Roland up in the room across the hall from hers, ordering her cook, an elderly woman they all call Granny, to take care of him, before she literally stumbles back to her own room.

The healer is still there, setting casts and splints, working quickly as the queen unabashedly sheds her singed, feathered cloak, then her torn velvet dress, stripping down to her black silk slip and pulling her hair out roughly before dragging herself up into the large bed beside Robin. She doesn’t care what the healer thinks, doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She’s weak, her magic exhausted and physical energy drained - she cannot stay on her feet for another second, and she refuses to be anywhere but here - in her own bed, next to her Thief. Regina shoves her heart under her pillow, pulls the heavy blankets up over her, and falls asleep instantly, her fingers carefully wrapped around Robin’s swollen, broken ones.

 

 


	14. The Healing

 

 

Chapter Thirteen - The Healing 

 

Regina wakes slowly, her mouth dry, lips chapped and eyes blurry as she adjusts to the dim morning light. She’s warm and comfortable otherwise, and she squeezes the soft, cushy blankets to her chest as she rouses, breathing in the familiar scent.

 

Only, the scent is not so familiar.

 

Her brow furrows and she loosens her arms, shifting back a little to glance down at the mass of fluffy white blankets. There is a boy wrapped up in them, wrapped up in her arms, his dark brown curls hiding his eyes as he slumbers, tucked up in her as much as she is in him, with his little fists wrapped right around the silk fabric of her black slip.

 

Regina blinks, completely at a loss.

 

It’s Robin’s son, _that_ she can tell, but she can’t understand why he’d be in her bed, why he’d be snuggled up against _her_ of all people, the merciless Evil Queen. She flicks her eyes around the room, looking for someone else, hoping that one of the chambermaids has brought the child over just for a moment to visit his father, who is on the other side of the boy, breathing deeply as he too, sleeps. The room is empty though, save for the three of them, and a large part of her has the sudden urge to flee.

In the span of a few short weeks of knowing Robin Hood, she’s gone from waking up alone, to waking up with Robin, to waking up with Robin _and_ his son.

 

It feels domestic. And sweet. Neither of which she is accustomed to.

 

She starts to pull back, to unwrap her arms from around the little boy, when she hears the low rumble of Robin’s voice as he says softly, “You’re alright, love, go back to sleep.”

She takes in a sharp breath and snaps her eyes up to his. “Of course I’m alright,” she grumbles, not believing herself any more than he does, from the knowing look on his face. “What is he doing in here?”

Robin turns his head to her and smirks, “He’s been coming to visit you every day since we returned. I think he’s harboring a bit of a crush on you.”

Regina’s brows shoot up, and she glances down again at the boy who seems so content in her arms. A shot of something that feels suspiciously _maternal_ runs through her, and she shoves it down quickly, looking away from the child and back to Robin.

“How many days has it been since we returned?” she asks, confused. She could swear the fight with Cora was just last night.

“Four,” he says softly, and she cringes.

“Four?” she repeats, sighing heavily. She cannot believe she’s been sleeping - no the appropriate description is that she’s been _unconscious_ \- for four days. _Jesus_.

“Well, it’s not like you defeated the second most powerful sorceress in this realm, healed a broken man back from the brink of death, and rescued a child from the depths of Sherwood Forest,” he says teasingly. “I certainly don’t know what could have led to such fatigue.”

He grins at her, and she bites her bottom lip as she fights her own smile, her eyes crinkling in spite of her resistance. She looks back down at the sleeping child and asks quietly, “He’s not… afraid?”

Robin’s eyes go serious as he looks down at Roland, then back up to her and says, “Of course not - you appeared out of thin air and teleported him to a castle that has more sweets than he’s ever seen in his life. He thinks you’re bloody brilliant.”

Regina laughs softly and settles back down against her pillow. She’s still tired - her joints are sore, her magic is only a weak thrum in her veins, and her eyelids feel heavy as she struggles to keep them open. So she gives in and allows herself to get wrapped up in the little boy who is apparently already enamored with her. She is safe and comfortable in her bed next to her Thief, and she closes her eyes as Robin instructed, falling back to sleep in a matter of minutes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Robin’s injuries were beyond severe, and are slow to heal in spite of Regina’s spells and the thorough attentions of the royal healer. More of his bones had been broken than not - over a dozen ribs, both clavicles, his left arm, wrist, and hand, his left leg, foot, and both ankles, and several tendons and ligaments torn or strained from the punishing constriction of Cora’s vines.  

He’s a good patient though, he doesn’t argue when Regina works over him, trying to speed the process one bone at a time in the late hours of each evening before bed, channeling magical energy from herself to his fractures, using up what little she has replenished that day.  

They don’t talk about what she’s doing for him, or what she _has_ done for him. It’s too real, too raw, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t push for some sort of “relationship” discussion. She doesn’t want to have that conversation, she wants to stay in this little bubble they’ve created for themselves, not ready to share anything with the world that she’s not ready to admit even to herself.

 

She’s falling hard and fast for Roland - he’s not only the cutest boy she’s ever met - those dimples are a heartbreaker - but he’s funny, outgoing, and completely infatuated with her. It’s amusing, and sweet, and Regina enjoys her time with him, enjoys his endearing innocence and wide-eyed wonder of her castle. He sleeps with them most nights, tucked in tightly between Robin and Regina in her large bed as she reads him whichever fairytale story he selected earlier that day from her vast library, her words extra soft and soothing in the dim lamplight, until he falls asleep against her.    

 

Robin’s hands and arms are the first to heal back to full health, and it’s no coincidence. Regina spent extra time on him there, spent the first week casting intense healing spells that targeted each fracture, each tear in the muscle, each stripped tendon, giving those areas special attention so that when he recovers, he should be able to pull his bow in exactly the same way as he did before. His bow is akin to her magic, and she will not let Cora ruin something that he worked for so hard, and so long, to perfect.

There is something intimate about the time she spends mending him, and it almost makes Regina smile as she handles the responsibilities of her kingdom, makes her anticipate her time with him at the end of each day, when she works her magic over him as he lays complaisant in her bed.

She’s late to see him today, her negotiations with the Arendelle delegate having taken longer than she had hoped. Roland is asleep in his own bed tonight, and Regina misses him but is also a little grateful for the reprieve. She needs to do some serious work on Robin’s ribs tonight - she’s healed ten of the broken fourteen over the past few days, but she thinks she can get the other four corrected tonight if she concentrates and casts her spells just right.

He’s more quiet than usual as she kneels next to him in her silk, dark purple nightdress, and she can understand his frustration. It’s been weeks since he could walk on his own, and for someone who has spent his life running amuck in the forest, there is no greater punishment. She’s working as fast as she can on him, giving him what she’s got each night to put his pieces back together, but she only has so much magic in her and healing spells never were her forte.

She has him shirtless, dressed down to just his soft sleep pants as she presses her fingers to his warm skin over where she knows the breaks are. Regina closes her eyes and starts the spell, focusing intently on the way she recites the elvish words in her mind, on getting the lilt and rhythm just right as the purple magic slips from her fingers and into his bones. Her hair is pulled back in a low, straight ponytail, keeping it off her face and neck as she pants a little under the strain of the spell, a flush rising in her cheeks and chest with the exertion, plainly visible beneath the low cut gown with barely-there straps. She feels the first, then the second rib slide into position, then the third and fourth almost simultaneously. She breathes deeply, pushing the spell onward, removing the damaged cells, bone particles, and blood clots from the fracture sites, alleviating much of his pain as the inflammation recedes, and she smiles just a little with satisfaction as she hears him let out a relieved sigh. Regina moves on to the advanced stage of the spell, sweat gathering at her brow as she casts it, forcing new tissue to grow between the broken pieces of the bone, the callus soft at first, then calcified by her magic, hardening and strengthening, returning the bone to it’s natural contours just as her hands start to shake and she has to stop to catch her breath.

She opens her eyes and glances down at him as she takes in a few deep breaths, her pulse racing like she’s just run several miles, and he’s staring up at her in complete awe. She keeps thinking he’ll get used to this, will come to expect her healing touch every night, but it’s like he doesn’t _expect_ anything from her. He is always grateful and accepting of her help, always looks stunned that she spends the time and energy to do this.

 

She loves that about him.

 

He reaches up to touch her face, and as his fingers stroke over her brow and gently down her cheek, she closes her eyes. “Gorgeous,” he says quietly.

She smirks and opens her eyes, says incredulously, “What, sweating, with no makeup, and my hair in a ponytail?”

He smiles up at her and nods, slides his fingers down her neck to her collarbone, where he runs the pads of them softly across the long bones from left to right, then back again. He slides his hand lower still, gliding across the neckline of her gown, and her breathing accelerates with his hot touch. His hand moves lower still, over the silky fabric to circle the swell of her breast before cupping her, giving her a light squeeze before his fingers slide inward to play with her nipple, tugging it quickly into a stiff peak. Arousal shoots through Regina, her body always so willing for him, and she shifts a little closer to him, bending her knees and sliding right up next to him so his other hand can reach her chest.

Robin eagerly coasts both of his hot palms across her breasts, his chest rising and falling quickly as he touches her through the thin fabric, massaging her sensitive nipples, sending heat to her lower belly and making her arch toward him as she licks her lips and brings one hand over to rest lightly on his warm chest. She tries to keep her breathing steady, tries not to get too riled up with how he’s touching her - they can’t do anything about it, he’s still in bad shape from the thighs down, and she doesn’t want to risk hurting him with her enthusiasm.

“Been forever since I touched you,” he breathes, and gooseflesh breaks across her chest. “Want you so bad.”

Regina takes a deep breath, a little whimper escaping her lips as she leans into his touch. He gets a little more aggressive, kneads her breasts with his strong hands and strums his thumbs roughly across her nipples before he pinches them, rotating his fingers to squeeze the little buds from every direction.  

“Been thinking about these plump tits all day,” he says, tugging both peaks, “Been thinking how good it would feel to get your pretty nipples in my mouth, suck you ‘til you’re raw so you can walk around in your corset tomorrow with them sore and chafing for me, working you up all day.”

Regina moans, digs her fingernails into his chest as he pinches hard, then releases her sensitive tips to stroke the undersides of her breasts. He slides his hands down further to wrap around her ribs, squeezing her tightly then stroking back up to cup and bounce her breasts.

“Come closer, darling,” he whispers, sliding his hands around to her back and pulling lightly, “Let me put my mouth on you.”

She starts to go, already worked up from the few weeks she’s gone without, but then she thinks better of it and protests, “We shouldn’t, your injuries…”

He smirks at her and flexes his fingers against her back as he says, “I’m pretty sure that having your sweet tits against my tongue overrides any injuries I have.”

She laughs, and against her better judgement, she scoots up the bed a little more, slides the thin straps of her nightgown off and shimmies it down to expose her breasts. She leans forward carefully, lowering herself slowly as she puts her hands on each side of his head. His hot breath against her sensitive skin makes her shiver, and when his mouth latches onto her right nipple, she moans loudly and presses down.

He sucks hard on her, pulling her pebbled tip deep into his mouth and stroking it with his tongue, flicking across the sensitive bud, then swirling around and around her areola as her breath hitches. He grasps the thick flesh of her mound tightly in his hand, squeezing and pulling her breast to his mouth as he suckles, as he teases and rubs and flicks against her.

Robin’s other hand cups her left breast, his soft, light touch so different from the attention his mouth is giving her. His hand ghosts over her, dragging his fingertips around and around the edges of the heavy mound, skating up and over her but purposefully missing her nipple. His fingers circle and pet her, his thumb rubs little circles against the inside swell as his fingers zig-zag lightly, and Regina lets her head tip back with the combination of hard and soft pleasure as wetness pools in her core.

Robin pulls his mouth back from her nipple with a hard, suction breaking <pop>, then goes back immediately for more, repeating the action over and over, as blood pools in the little tip and it starts to ache, then burn with pleasure from the intense, repeated suction.

Without warning, he switches to her other breast, and the swipe of his tongue against her neglected nipple makes her gasp - _oh god_ \-  makes her thrust her chest forward and clench the muscles of her wet sex as he works it, sucking hard and long as he clamps his thumb and forefinger down on her other - ahhhh, ahhh - over sensitive tip. He holds the pressure, squeezing hard but not hard enough to hurt, the pressure making her squirm as she lets out these desperate little _Ooo, ooo_ sounds -  his hold unyielding as he jiggles her breast and tongues her other nipple with rough swipes of the flat of his tongue. He nips circles around her areola, sucking hard on the bottom edge, pulling the blood to the surface and marking her before lapping at her peak and pulling it back in to suckle rhythmically. Regina is panting, her sex slick and aching, wishing she could slide down onto his cock, wishing she could move one hand to rub her throbbing clit or to slide two fingers up into her tight channel.

He releases his tight grip on her right nipple, and as the blood returns it throbs hard, sending shocks of pleasure straight to her clit, and he slaps at her breast, making it sway, the light sting pulling a hard moan from her throat as Robin scrapes his teeth lightly over her left nipple. He pulls his head back and pulls both tight buds between his fingers, pinching and twisting, roughing them up with his thick calloused fingers and making her drop her forehead to his as she rocks her hips, clenching her thighs in an attempt to relieve her arousal.

This was a bad idea. She’s too turned on, too hot for him, she’s aching and wet and sensitive, and she needs to come - needs to reach some sort of climax from this - and she’s not going to get there without his fingers in her sex. “Please,” she gasps as he pinches down hard on her swollen, bright pink nipples, “Oh my god, _please_.”

He arches his neck up to suck at her throat as his fingers hold their tight pinching grip on her nipples, and he licks against her smooth skin, sucking hot kisses against her all the way to her collarbone as he pulls her breasts forward, further, further - _jesus_ \- stretching the flesh tight, by her now tingling nipples. When he lets the little buds slide roughly from his grasp, her breasts spring back and shimmy, and Regina trembles with the arousal that throbs hard in her as the blood flow returns, begging him again, “ _Please, oh, ohhh!_ ”  

He drops one hand down and quickly rucks up her nightdress, slides his thumb under the edge of her panties and presses hard against her clit, and Regina jerks with the shock of pleasure he creates as he rubs his calloused pad frantically against her. She’s burning up, so wet _\- jesus-_ so wet for him, her clit throbbing under his thumb as he stimulates her, his tongue lapping at each aching nipple as she rocks her hips, trying to get more pleasure and wanting to come - _oh god -_ she wants to come so badly.

He shifts his hand, thrusts two fingers up into her slick sex suddenly, thrusts rapidly, thrusts fast-fast-fast and deep - _so, so deep -_ her wetness dripping from her, completely coating his fingers and palm. He groans and sucks tightly on her nipple, then moves his thumb back to her clit, flurries against it, and _oh god,_ _oh fuck_ , _ohhh, ohhh -_

She’s coming for him _\- jesus - fuck -_ she’s shaking hard and crying out as she shudders, as her inner walls contract and he shoves his fingers back up into her to give her something to clench on, flicking at her roughed up nipples with the tip of his tongue, whispering to her, “That’s it, ohh, get it babe,” as she shamelessly rocks her hips and rides his fingers, grinding on his hand, just barely able to hold herself up on her shaking arms.

He slows his hand as she shudders, her inner spasms slowing, wet need making her thighs sticky as she relaxes, and he presses sweet kisses against the sensitive, reddened skin of her breasts as she takes a moment to catch her breath.

He slips his fingers from her, slides them purposefully over her sensitive clit to make her twitch, and she huffs out a hard breath as she fights a smile before pushing herself back onto her knees to give her arms a break. He’s grinning like an idiot as he looks up at her, and he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking her creamy juices from them and closing his eyes as he makes this deep _mmm_ sound. When he pulls his fingers out, he makes a show of looking over her breasts, licking his lips with this hot little smirk - it draws her own attention down, and oh - _oh my._

 

It’s going to be high necklines and padded lingerie for the next two days, at least.

 

She’s flushed and still breathing heavily, her breasts are covered in red splotches where he nipped and sucked and scraped his teeth across her, several love bites interrupting her creamy skin, and one suspiciously shaped bruise that looks just like the curve of his incisors. Her nipples are bright red, still peaked and swollen, throbbing just a little, and she knows _\- jesus -_ that she’s chafed - that she’s going to feel even the lightest brush of fabric against her peaked buds, is going to have a constant reminder of his talented mouth, as she goes about her day.

She clenches in anticipation, and lets out a little laugh.

He brings his fingers up carefully and circles one nipple, and oh, _oh god,_ she’s definitely raw. She takes a sharp intake of breath and has to pull back from his fingers, the touch too much for her, and he furrows his brow, asks, “Too much?”

She tilts her head, quirks her lips up as she laughs softly and says, “Well, maybe a little, but god, that was worth it.”

He reaches behind him for the side table, grabs a little jar of ointment the healer gave him for the places where his splints are rubbing, and unscrews the cap. He dips his fingers in and coats them, then raises his hand to her as he meets her eyes and says, “Here, darling, let me take care of you for a change.”

Regina swallows thickly, her stupid emotions jumping up again and making her eyes feel hot, that thick heat of affection washing over her as she nods, and leans closer so he can spread the thick, cool gel over her. It helps almost immediately, takes the burn away, and his fingers are perfection as they swirl over one nipple, then the other, soft and slow and thorough, rubbing it in and coating her thoroughly with the ointment.

He caps the jar and sets it back, and Regina takes a second to breathe, to rein herself in, to collect these ridiculous _feelings_ that keep raising up out of nowhere. She runs her eyes down him and stalls at his erection, wondering what she’s supposed to do for him - his leg is still broken, and the angle would be weird for her mouth, but maybe her hand -

“I’m not expecting anything more than what you just gifted me with,” he says quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

She raises an eyebrow and says, “Turnabout is fair play,” as she reaches for him, runs her fingers across his tented groin.

He moans for her, but covers her hand with his and says, “I want to, believe me, _I want to_ , but I’m not certain I uh, not certain I can. The pain in my leg is a bit much, and honestly, watching you come was plenty enough for me tonight.”

Regina’s heart breaks open just a little, and she leans in to kiss him, to press her lips softly to his as she fights back how much she appreciates him.

She ignores the little voice in her head that warns her she’s getting attached, she’s starting to consider this to be something more, she’s starting to _fall_.

Regina rights her nightgown and settles in next to Robin, her head cushioned against his chest for the first time since their return, his upper body finally healed enough for the action. She smooths her hand across his hard muscles, back and forth, up and down, and she when she finally drifts off, she sleeps soundly, warm, and content against him.

 

 


	15. The Competition

 

 

Chapter Fourteen - The Competition 

 

 

This is stupid.

 

Why on earth he considers this to be “fun” is completely beyond her.

 

They’re sitting on the edge of the lake, so close their thighs are brushing, as they dip bamboo fishing poles out into the water, trying to “catch supper”.

Robin is able to walk on his own again, the long bones in his left leg, ankle and foot stitched back together with vast amounts of her magic, and he cannot sit still, can’t take five minutes out of his day to rest after weeks of being off his feet. He’s supposed to be taking it easy, supposed to be letting his body re-adjust to the severe trauma and strange healing process he went through, but no one can keep him quiet for long. The healer won’t allow him to ride, or shoot his bow, or even go for a hike along the well-worn path through the Infinite Forest. So when he invited her to go fishing with him, Regina reluctantly gave in, if only to help his sore legs get some much-needed rest.

The thing is, the lake is full of fish - big ones, small ones, tasty ones, and not so tasty ones, so catching fish isn’t really the difficulty - catching the _right_ kind of fish is the challenge.

He’s caught a few, showed her which ones they’re looking for and about where to drop her line in the water for the best luck, but she hasn’t caught much, just a few long reeds and an ugly catfish with a pug face and downturned mouth that she absolutely refused to touch.

He’s been in a good mood this afternoon, his hand settled high on her thigh, his long, thick fingers wrapped around the inside, stroking softly, almost absentmindedly as they stare out at the water and watch the long tips of their rods.

She’s in stretchy black cotton pants and a dark purple linen tunic that cuts a deep vee neckline obscenely low in both the front and back, cinched at her waist with a black velvet belt whose buckle is heavily encrusted with diamonds. He convinced her to take both her knee high boots _and_ stockings off, so she’s sitting next to him in her bare feet like a peasant, as her toes scrunch up the white sand at the lake’s edge. Her face, chest, back, and arms are all tanning a soft golden color by the summer sun, her raven hair hanging down, waving and long, fluttering softly in the light breeze. She’s having a hard time keeping her eyes off him as they relax and enjoy each other’s company, catches herself running her eyes across his tan trousers and loose white shirt, his skin also warming beneath the sun but turning a little pink whereas hers turns bronze.

 

It’s quiet, and easy, and oddly… freeing.

 

There is a _tug-tug_ on the end of her fishing rod and she doesn’t bother to set the hook. She doesn’t care if she catches fish - she’s the queen and if she wants food, someone will get it for her. So she ignores the tell-tale signs of a hooked fish, tilts her face up to the sun, closes her eyes, and sighs.

After a few moments, Robin grabs her pole suddenly and says, “You’ve a fish on, darling!”

Regina cracks one eye and raises a thin, dark brow as she says simply, “So?”

Robin grins, takes the pole from her and lands the fish, teasingly congratulating her on finally catching the right kind.

She leans back on her elbows to watch him remove the perch, then tuck it into the floating wicker basket he’s been stuffing fish into all afternoon. “Hey,” she says, amused, “That one’s mine, shouldn’t it go in my basket?”

He laughs and rolls his eyes as he says, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but for the fish to count, you’ve got to pull it in yourself.”

She sits up a little, fixing him with her best Evil Queen glare as she says, “I demand that fish be placed in my basket, you thieving cripple.”

 

He stares at her for a second, frozen by her curt tone and look, then bursts out laughing, reaching for the back of her neck to pull her in for a quick kiss as she scowls, but kisses him back anyway.

 

“That look won’t work on me, love,” he laughs, “I’ve become immune.”

She rolls her eyes at him and takes her fishing rod back as she demands he clarify the rules - which she is certain he makes up completely on-the-fly as he lists off the requirements for a fish to count:

 

  1. One must land the fish oneself, obviously
  2. One must catch the right kind of fish - only perch are allowed in this instance
  3. One must not be more beautiful than the Queen, which is impossible anyway, so no worries there
  4. And finally, if upon meeting criteria one through three, it happens to be a lady who lands the fish, she must also kiss the nearest “thieving cripple” for it to count



 

Regina laughs at him as he tells her all of this, and then he tries to talk her into a contest - the first to fill their basket wins. The lines around his bright blue eyes crinkle handsomely as he smiles and wiggles his eyebrows at her, daring her to accept.

She thinks over his rules for a moment, immensely enjoying the way he grins at her when she finally extends her hand and says confidently, “Challenge accepted.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

She’s kicking his ass at their fishing contest - for each one of his, she pulls in two or three more, all perch, all of superior size to his. He teases her about her sudden hidden talent of finding only the best specimens, and should she ever relent her throne, she has a good future in the fishing business.

Regina is, of course, completely cheating - is using her magic to lure the fish to her hook and keep them on once they’ve bitten, and she’s sure he knows she’s cheating, but neither one seems to care as they laugh, and tease, and while away the warm afternoon.

 

And it doesn’t hurt that every time she lands a fish, she gets to kiss him.

 

Sweet kisses. Soft kisses. Deep, and wet, and tongue filled kisses. Hot and biting and playful kisses. _All_ the kisses.

 

When her basket is full, and his is still only half as much, they call her victory and Robin makes big show of raising her arm high, as if she’s just won a jousting tournament, as he announces her superior talent, and determination, _and_ beauty.

He has her laughing again when he grabs a nearby fossil and presents it to her as the winner’s trophy, and she covers her eyes with her hand as she tips onto her back in the grass, chest shaking as she cracks up with his foolishness.

When she uncovers her eyes he’s propped on his elbow next to her, watching her laugh and chuckling too, before he leans down and presses a kiss to her lips.

“Congratulations, darling,” he says softly, his lips brushing hers, “Even though you’re a bloody rotten cheat.”

Regina grins and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him hard, opening her mouth to take his top lip between hers, sucking softly and tilting her head, deepening the kiss as she slides her tongue into his mouth to stroke and flick against his.

He moans softly into her mouth, his hand cupping her cheek as he shifts over so his chest is pressing to hers. He pulls back and gives her soft, slow pecks, kissing her chin, the curve of her jaw, her pulse point, as he says heatedly, “This seems like one bloody good consolation prize.”

She laughs, doesn’t even try to fight the smile as he kisses down her throat and lower, his lips and tongue working down her sternum, then back and forth across the smooth, exposed skin of her chest as he takes full advantage of her low cut top, murmuring, “You’ve been teasing me with this sexy little shirt all day, haven’t you? Could barely look your way without getting hard.”

He drops his hand and plays with the clasp on her belt for a moment before she feels it release, her breath catching as he slides his hand down her body to rest on her hip bone. He sucks wetly against the exposed, inside swell of her breast, then slips his hand up under the hem of her shirt to stroke along her smooth, toned stomach.

Her belly quivers under his touch, her anticipation getting the better of her after weeks of near celibacy, and it’s ridiculous that she’s so needy for his touch - she’s gone months without a lover before - but never has she craved a man the way she craves him.

He smooths his hand back and forth across the planes of her stomach as he drops soft kisses against her chest, his breaths hot against her skin as his fingers inch up, up, up. When he strokes the underside of her bare breast and discovers her lack of lingerie, he breathes out a soft _Fuuuck_ against her, running his fingertips along the full swell as he pulls his head up and asks quietly, “Oh Christ, have you forgotten all of your undergarments this afternoon?”

Regina smirks and rolls her hips up as she flashes her dark eyes at him and challenges, “There’s only one way to find out.”

He bites his lip and slides his hand up to cup her breast, massaging the thick flesh as he pushes it toward her low neckline, her nipple now exposed as he drops his head and licks the flat of his tongue across it. She pushes her chest toward him as he does it again, and again, her stiff peak so sensitive as he drags wetly across it  - _god_ that feels good. Her hands run through his short, soft hair and stroke down his neck, then smooth across his shoulders.

He shifts his hand to her other breast and tugs it toward the center of her shirt to concentrate on that nipple, sucking softly on it and tugging with his lips as breathy little sighs escape from her. She’s getting wet already, wants him so bad, wants him to slide his hands, his lips, his tongue down and give her sex the attention she’s been missing. He sucks her nipple hard, pulling at the peak, the sharp sensation making her gasp, _Ooo - Ooo!_ as he releases it, then kisses his way up her chest, smirking.

He runs his hand down her throat, squeezing lightly and stroking her as his lips come back to hers, and she kisses him enthusiastically, reveling in his touch, in the warm, molten tingling sensation he’s stirring in her lower belly and the lips of her sex.

He kisses her deeply, then drops a quick kiss to the bridge of her nose as he cards his fingers into her hair and meets her eyes, as he asks seriously, “How far can we go?”

Regina remembers suddenly that they are completely out in the open, on the edge of the lake, no less, where anyone could stumble upon them, or look across the shoreline and clearly surmise what they’re doing, and she huffs out a little embarrassed laugh as she drops her head back and admits, “I um, haven’t put much thought into that yet.”

He _hmmm’s_ above her then slides his hand down to her thigh, and rolls them so they’re on their sides facing each other, as he pulls her leg up over his hip.

“It might be a bit… restricting,” he says, kissing her lips again, “But if you want to keep it on the safe side, I’m sure we could find something to do with our hands like this, without being exposed to watchful eyes.”

Regina raises an eyebrow and tilts her head as she surmises, “You’ve done this before.”

He smirks and kisses her again as his hands drop to the front of her pants and flick open the first button, then the second, and finally the third, as he admits, “I’ve lived in the forest for years - in a tent, mind you - so yeah, I’ve discovered ways to be discrete.”

She brings her hands to his trousers, sliding his belt through the buckle and opening each button slowly before she asks, “How about a friendly competition?”

Robin gives her a little amused smile as he looks into her eyes and asks, “Oh?”

She nods, “Last person to come, wins.” She keeps her eyes on his, letting him know she’s serious - wants to see how long they can flirt with the edge before they tip over it.

He smiles at her as he nods his agreement, but says, “It’s been weeks for me darling, so you’ve an unfair advantage, but in this case, I really don’t mind losing.”

She grabs his hand and pulls it to her, slides it down the front of her pants so he can feel how wet she is as she purrs, “I think your odds are better than you realize.”

He moans and slides his fingers through her slick folds, rubbing her softly as she reaches for him. She pulls him out quickly, her pulse jumping as she wraps her fingers around him and starts to stroke, her arousal intense as she handles him, as he pants and moves his hips toward her in rhythm.

His thick fingers feel like heaven against her as he coats them with her slick juices and begins to rub her clit, running them in further every few strokes to tease at her entrance, her breaths coming fast and hard, mixing with his as they touch each other. He stretches his arm out so she can pillow her head on his bicep as they work each other up, sharing hot breaths and kisses in between strokes, her sex burning with desire and aching against his fingers. He shifts his leg, bending his knee so that he spreads her thighs wider, giving him access to her tight entrance, which he immediately takes advantage of and slides two fingers up into her.

Regina moans and rocks her hips toward him, panting as he works his fingers fast, thrusting quick - oh jesus - so quick and deep, then switching to curling taps of his fingertips and short strokes, hitting her g-spot and making her jerk her hips toward him in search of more. She gives what she gets, stroking his hard length faster, twisting at the top and swirling her thumb through his precum, around and around his smooth, thick head, then back to quick strokes that make him lose his breath and groan quietly.

He’s thick, and hot, and hard in her hand, and her mouth waters for him, literally waters when she thinks of how she’d like to pull him between her lips, slide him deep down her throat, run her tongue down the underside of his long length and suck hot kisses back up. She tells him this - knows she’s not playing fair but tells him anyway, and he moves his fingers faster in response, slipping out of her to press and swirl vigorously on her aching clit.

She’s starting to lose control, can feel herself tightening deep within, can feel the flush that breaks across her chest, tightening her nipples and making her gasp for breaths, a slur of - _oh god -_  and - _just like that_ \- and _\- yeah - oh - right there!_ \- falling from her lips as he rubs her clit smooth and fast, her hips rocking shamelessly toward him and her hand stroking him fast, twisting around his tip over and over as he thrusts into her fist.

“Wish I could come inside you,” he pants, his eyes locked on hers, “Wish I could feel you clench on me, wish I could feel your hot release run down my cock when you come.”

Regina arches and whines a desperate _mm-mm!_ in agreement, unable to speak anymore, using all her concentration to work his cock, to get him to come before her, because she’s - _oh, ohhh_ \- so close, and when he talks like this to her, it drives her arousal sky high.

He’s moving his hips fast against her hand, losing pace with the intense rhythm she has on him as she strokes and strokes, runs her fingers down to knead his balls and then back to rapid pumps again. She’s no better, her thighs are quaking as he circles and circles her clit, rubbing fast and firm and slick across the engorged little bud, dipping his fingers into her every so often to thrust fast-fast-fast then back to stimulate her clit. She’s seconds away - _so - ahhh - close -_  when suddenly he pulls his fingers from her, growling, _“Oh god - fuck it,"_  as he moves both hands to the open fly of her pants and yanks, tearing the seam way back, then hiking her leg up over his hip as he rolls onto her and thrusts in deep.

Regina cries her pleasure out loudly - immediately coming - _oh god oh god oh god -_ pulsing hard around his cock, snapping her hips up and spreading her legs wide for him as he thrusts, once, twice, and then spills into her, burying himself deep as she writhes under him, rolling her hips up over and over, riding him, her nails digging into his ribs as she clenches on him, the hot spray of his come mixing with her release and making his thrusts wet and sloppy, her clit thrumming with hot pleasure as she shudders hard, and starts to come down, sliding her hands up and down his back soothingly as he settles over her, his lips pressed to her collarbone as he pants and tries to regroup.

He pulls them back to their sides as soon as he apparently regains coherent thoughts, and even though he slips out, she keeps her leg up over him, just wanting to be pressed against him for a few more minutes.

“God,” he says quietly after a several slow kisses. “You’re fucking incredible.”

She smiles against his lips, feeling his come seep from her, a wet mess that she doesn’t mind _at all_ right now, as she flashes her dark eyes at him teasingly and says, “I know.”

He laughs against her lips, kissing her again, and again, then says seriously, “I’m sorry about uh, losing control in the end there - I hadn’t intended on doing that but jesus, you were so tight, and wet, and fucking perfect -”

She kisses him to shut him up - she lost control too, wanted him inside of her when she came, _and_ when he came, so there’s no need for his sweet words. She tells him so and earns a loud groan as he palms her ass, squeezing her cheek hard as he grins and says, “By the way,” he pauses to kiss her, pulling her hips to him, “I felt you come all over my cock, darling, so I do believe that means I win.”

She laughs against him and says, “Shut up,” as she nips his bottom lip and slides her tongue into his mouth, then proceeds to make sure he’s much too distracted to gloat.

 

 


	16. The Swim

 

 

Chapter Fifteen - The Swim 

 

She didn’t think it was possible for him to be any more adorable, but here she is, eating her words, because it absolutely _was_ possible.

Roland is standing before her in a tiny replica of her Queen’s Guard uniform - the long black leather and velvet tunic draped over his little shoulders, cinched at the waist with a black leather belt that he’s got a tiny wooden sword tucked into, little black leather gloves and trousers and knee high boots that all match. Regina grins at him, thinks she might actually melt into a puddle of goo from the charm he radiates as he gives her a proud, megawatt smile, those sweet dimples on full display for her as he struts about, curls bouncing, drawing and redrawing his sword with a flourish as if he’s a fully trained guard captain.

She can’t stop smiling at him, can’t help but encourage him as she calls him over to her with an exaggerated serious expression on her face. She has him get down on one knee, his eyes huge with awe as she takes his little sword and knights him as _Sir Roland_ in front of Granny and the rest of the kitchen staff, some of the younger girls getting in on the fun and pretending to swoon as he leaps to his feet and shouts to anyone who will listen - “I’m a knight! I’m a knight! I’m ‘Gina’s knight!”

He runs by her and she grabs for the back of his tunic, pulling him up sharply and to her so she can give him a good squeeze and a smooch, leaving a dark red lipstick mark on his round little cheek as he squeals loudly, and she tells him, “Not just _any_ knight, but my _favorite_ knight.”

His little face goes beet red and he escapes to Granny, clearly overwhelmed by the honors she’s just bestowed on him, and after a few minutes and several more laughs, she leaves him to Granny to discipline for the sweets he’s been shoving in his pockets when he thinks the old woman isn’t looking.

She strides off down the corridor in a fantastic mood, the long tails of her black velvet riding coat flapping behind her, knowing that she’s going soft, she’s letting that boy have too much of her heart, but she can’t seem to care. Cora is dead, and just as importantly, Cora was wrong - Regina hasn’t felt this way in years, hasn’t felt so good, so strong, and dare she say, so _happy_ , since she lost Daniel. She can’t help but think that her mother must have completely misunderstood the world around her, because for Regina, it certainly appears that a _lack_ of love was the real weakness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a hot day, the bright, afternoon sun reflects beautifully off the lake, the clear deep water warmed from the long days of summer as the waves lap gently against the sandy beach. She’s riding with Roland, his little body tucked into the saddle in front of her, and they detour from her planned path when he suddenly points toward the sparkling water, noticing Robin and the healer walking slowly and carefully along the shoreline.

She turns Rocinante at Roland’s request, and they break into an easy canter as they head toward the water, Roland shouting gleefully, “Faster, ‘Gina! Faster!”

Regina doesn’t increase the speed, a canter is fast enough for a five-year-old, but she can’t stop her smile from breaking, can’t help but duck her head down to his ear to gasp in pretend awe at how fast they’re going, to tell him what a good rider he is, to remind him to tell Rocinante what a good steed he is as they head down the smoothly sloping hill.

Roland eats up her praise, his little hands tight around the saddle swell as they make the short trek. He’s such a good little boy, shouting praises to Rocinante and talking to the horse as if he can understand him, telling the big chestnut _how much fun_ he’s having, how much _he loves him_ , how proud _“Ro-see”_ must be to be _‘Gina’s special horse_ , and did he know that he is the queen’s _most favorite knight_? Regina has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, to keep herself together so as not to interrupt him as he chatters on and on to her horse.

As they approach the lake she pulls up into an easy walk and gives Roland the reins, letting him show off for Robin as they close the distance. There’s no harm in it, Rocinante is well trained on leg cues and weight distribution, she can easily bring him to a stop or turn him if she needs to, and she loves the way Roland’s little chest puffs up with pride as he holds tightly to the reins, taking his new job as seriously as any five-year-old can.

 

She fights down a snicker as she thinks, _this boy could’ve outridden Snow on her best day._

 

They get about ten feet from Robin, and Regina can’t help but give Roland just a little more of a thrill, she discreetly clicks her tongue to Rocinante, tugs Roland back to her a little so that he pulls the reins just right, squeezes her thighs and puts the big stallion into a perfect, slow piaffe, his neck beautifully arched as he bounces back and forth from foot to foot for several steps, before Regina’s concentration breaks and she brings him to a halt, laughing at the loud gasp and vibration of pure joy that tears through Roland at the trick.

She hugs him up, rubbing her gloved hands across his tiny chest for a second as he talks excitedly to her, and to _Ro-see_ , then he reaches for his papa and Robin pulls him from the saddle and puts him on his feet. Roland promptly takes off, running across the beach and looking for stones, and shells, and god knows what, taking Marcus the Healer with him down the shoreline, leaving Robin and Regina alone.

She looks down at Robin, still grinning, and when she meets his eyes she almost loses her breath. He’s smiling broadly and staring up at her with this look of astonishment, like he’s, like he’s… She shakes the thought, focuses instead on how the lines at his beautiful blue eyes crinkle handsomely as he strokes his hand up her thigh, then reaches up to slide his fingers across the nape of her neck to pull her down for a kiss, then another, and oh, alright, one more, before he lets go with a brush of her cheek, and steps back.

“How’re you feeling today?” she asks, just a little bit breathless as she licks her lips.

He nods, says, “Feeling quite fit actually, thanks, in no small part, to the special attentions of the most beautiful woman in the realm.”

Regina rolls her eyes, because since when has her filthy talking Thief gone so soft? Probably about the time his Evil Queen melted for his ridiculously adorable son.

 

What a pair they make, all gooey inside now that imminent danger has passed.

 

She looks toward the lake as Rocinante shifts under her, and it’s beautiful as the sun sets over it, a pink hue lighting the horizon as it slowly sinks.

“Care for a swim?” Robin asks, and she scoffs as she looks back to him.

“What, now?”

He rakes his eyes hotly over her, letting his hand smooth back up her thigh as he says, “Yeah - I’m supposed to do some water training for these damaged old bones, perhaps you’d care to join me, to help me with my _exercise_.”

Regina raises an eyebrow and gives him a devious little smile. She hasn’t been swimming in ages - she’s hot from the ride and the vast amount of dark leather she’s wearing, her hair sticky against her neck, perspiration gathered between her breasts, and she really wouldn’t mind cooling off. The sun is setting, the impending darkness offering them some privacy, and she cannot think of one single reason why she shouldn’t do it.

“Are you sure you’re up to the task?” she teases, letting her voice drop low and sultry. “I’d hate for you to injure yourself further by pushing _too hard_ , _too fast_.” She lets her eyes wander down his thick body, appreciating his physique as he is cast in silhouette by the golden sunlight.

He smirks and says, “You let me worry about things that are too hard, my queen, and I’ll ensure you’re pushed as fast as you like.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t know how she lets him talk her into these things.

 

Doesn’t know why it always seems like a great idea in the heat of the moment, why she lets him push her so far out of her comfort zone that she can’t decide if she’s more turned on, or more afraid of getting caught.

 

No, that’s a lie.

 

She’s definitely more turned on.

 

She’s not naive, she knew the second he invited her to swim that they were going to fuck in the water. What she _didn’t_ realize, was that his simple question of, “Can you float on your back?” was going to turn into, “Can you float on your back while I suck your clit and finger you to orgasm?”

 

The answer is yes, by the way.

 

It started out innocent enough. They sent Roland up to the castle with Marcus, the boy more than willing to return Rocinante to the stables for his queen, the healer throwing them a knowing look that Regina will take care to wipe off his face the next chance she gets. They stripped down, waded out, and she dove under the water as soon as it was deep enough - she’s always been the type to jump in all at once instead of slowly acclimating to the temperature change.

For a while, all they did was swim - well, swim and kiss - or rather, they kissed with a little bit of swimming just to stay afloat. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers, and he worked her up quickly as his lips sucked and licked at her wet skin, his short beard scraping lightly against her. He ran his hands all over her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, his cock half hard just from a handful of kisses and her naked body pressed to his. He tipped her back, pulling her up out of the water a little so he could get at her breasts, to suck and lap at her dripping nipples, and that’s when he suddenly asked her if she could float.  

Regina had never tried to float while a man was doing the things Robin promised her he would be doing, but she’d never been one to back down from a challenge either. So she untangled herself from him, kicked up onto her back, and filled her lungs with air, putting her hands up and behind her head to show off a little as she drifted easily on top of the water, now still and smooth as glass around them. She raised her head after a second to see what he was doing, only to find him staring at her in the bright moonlight, his hand rubbing across his mouth in the same way he did on the night they met. It made her smirk as she teased him, “Sometime tonight, Thief.”

It didn’t turn out to be her favorite position, she spent an enormous amount of concentration trying to figure out how to keep her lungs full of air and her head above the water, when every thrust of his fingers made her arch, every suck against her clit stole her breath. She wound up with her legs wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled her a little further away from shore, one hand pressing up lightly against her lower back so she was floating closer to where he wanted her, and then he dropped his mouth down and simply _devoured_ her. His talented tongue worked her clit quickly, sucking and rubbing against her in the ways he has learned she likes, swirling and flicking and tugging her arousal up fast, as he slid his middle and ring fingers up into her and worked them against her most sensitive spot, pushing that hot, deep pleasure up to match the throbbing in her clit. With every touch he made her breath catch, made her throw caution to the wind as her wet nipples peaked tightly in the moonlight, her body on full display for anyone who might happen by the lake. Should someone have seen them, there would have been no denying what they were doing, especially with the high pitched pants and low moans coming from Regina's chest as she struggled to stay afloat. He worked his lips and tongue against her, pulling her inner lips between his and tonguing hard at her clit, his fingers tapping fast against her inner walls, relentless, stroking her over and over and over, until she went to pieces for him, clenching on his fingers and squirming against his lips as she shuddered her climax, nearly drowning when she forgot to breathe, forgot to keep her damn head above the water as her back arched.

 

She likes what they’re doing now more, though, likes the way her breasts press up against him, the way her hard nipples rub along his wet chest as he slides her slowly up and down his cock, his large hands grasping the round muscles of her ass and flexing as he thrusts up into her. She likes the slow pace he’s set, likes that she can kiss, and kiss, and kiss him between each thrust, that she can run her lips, tongue, and teeth along his strong, scruffy jawline, down his throat, and across his shoulders as he slides in deep.

She smooths her hands all over him, lighting up and treating herself to uninhibited exploration of his skin. He’s a beautiful man, chiseled and masculine, with gorgeous, soft hair, those bright blue eyes she loves so much, thick everywhere she likes her men to be thick - chest, arms, thighs, and cock, and she wishes he was fully healed so that she could fuck him like this outside of the water, could feel his muscles bulging as he held her up in a show of strength and had his way with her. Perhaps against a wall, or a door.

He thrusts up sharply and she moans, tipping her head back as he increases speed, her fingers wrapped around his biceps as her long, black hair hangs down into the water. He works her hips for her, up and down, faster and faster along his thick length as he thrusts, the warm water starting to ripple around them with the increased speed.

He feels amazing, the stretch of his thick cock so, so good inside of her - _godddd it’s good -_ as he works his hips and hers, pulling her down onto him over and over, and she’s not at all ashamed when she slides one hand between them to play with her clit. He’s incredible at this, so talented at getting her off more than once, and she knows he’ll stay at her, he’ll work, and work, and work her until she comes around him again - she’s getting there, slow and steady, and she wants to come for him again, but she also wants to make it easy on his sore, freshly healed bones.

She rubs her middle and ring fingers softly against her clit, then a little faster, a little more firm, working up a rhythm to match his hips but in double time, as he fucks into her with these hard, punctuated thrusts that shake her breasts and make her dig her nails into the back of his neck as she moans. It’s perfect, the way he’s fucking her is simply perfect, and that slow, deep burn in her lower belly has spread to her clit, is tingling through the swollen lips of her sex as she gets closer and closer to climax. He speeds up a little more, and she opens her eyes to watch his face - _jesus he’s handsome -_ only to catch him already looking at her. She kisses him hard, strokes her tongue against his and moans into his mouth as he snaps her hips down hard, her arousal spiking up, up, up, with each thrust.

“So tight, so soft, so perfect,” he pants between kisses. She sucks at his upper lip, kisses the corner of his mouth, then presses the bridge of her nose to his cheek, panting - _ah, hah, ah! -_ as he thrusts into her, murmuring, “Fuck babe, I never stood a chance, not a single chance.”

She furrows her brow, kissing his lips again and asking him breathlessly, “What do you mean?”

He kisses her, runs his tongue along her lips, and nips the curve of her chin as he says, “That first night I saw you with the Huntsman, I was so bloody jealous,” he pauses to thrust hard-hard-hard, “Wanted to kill him for getting to fuck your perfect body, wanted to run my knife through him and take his place. Almost did it, too, when you told him ‘No’.”

She’d smirk if her clit wasn’t throbbing under her fingers, but it is, and all she can do is bite her lip and arch her back as her pleasure winds tighter and tighter.

“You made me forget,” he pants, and he’s getting close, she can tell by the rough edge to his voice, the way his neck strains under her lips as she sucks against his pulse point, “Made me forget everything,” he thrusts up hard, “The second I saw you all I could think about was burying my cock in your tight little cunt.”

Regina moans for him, her arousal starting to turn white hot - his cock sliding deep, stretching her just right - _jesus,_ _just_ _right -_ her fingers slipping frantically across her clit have her almost there, but she wants him to know she wasn’t unaffected by him, wants him to know he made _her_ forget too.

She pulls back a little to look him in the eye as she pants out in pleasure - _Ohh, ohh God_ \- then presses a quick kiss to his lips as she confesses, “I only came because I was watching _you_ \- that first orgasm was just as much yours as the rest of them that night.”

He groans, says, “ _JesusfuckingChrist_ ,” as he slams his mouth against hers, biting her lips, his mouth possessive, his tongue swiping through her mouth and his teeth scraping across her lips as he goes all in. He fucks her fast in the water, pulling her down quick-quick-quick-quick, and she’s almost there - _oh god, almost_ \- when she feels him tense against her, the sound of his deep ragged breaths and this low, sexy moan as he struggles for control finally breaks her, tipping her pleasure over the edge as she shatters on him. He immediately follows with hard jerks of his hips, was already so close to coming she’s pretty sure he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and she shudders hard as her inner walls contract on him, throbbing and pulsing as he drives up into her. He forces her hips down onto him as he comes inside of her, filling her swollen, pulsing channel with hot jets of his come as she grinds and swivels her hips against him, legs locked tight around his waist as her fingers flutter across her clit once, then again, to pull one last throbbing shot of pleasure from her sex to keep her soaring as he finishes, then hugs her tightly to his chest.

Regina kisses him deeply as they come down, runs her wet hands through her hair to slick it back off her forehead again, then smooths her fingertips along his jaw, down his neck, and around to press against the back of his head so she can get deep into his mouth. His hands stroke her back, he softens inside of her, then slips out, and she shivers at the loss of him. Their kisses turn slow and languid, completely unhurried against each other, until the night breeze raises gooseflesh on them both. Regina takes the liberty of teleporting them to bed, and Robin clings to her a little this time as they cuddle under her heavy blankets - she lays on her back and he moves so he has a leg thrown over one of hers, his arm tight across her chest, his fingers wrapped shamelessly around her full breast as he tucks his face in near her neck.

It’s sweet, but a little bit possessive, and where she has balked at that feeling when it comes to relationships in the past, she once again finds herself secretly into it when _he_ does it.

 

 


	17. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - mild violence

 

 

Chapter Sixteen - The Truth 

 

 

Regina wakes to see Robin sitting next to her in bed, in just his sleep pants, holding, quite literally, her heart in his hands.

She immediately tenses, eyes wide as she snaps, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He startles, but immediately meets her gaze as he ignores her question, thumbs stroking across her thumping muscle as he asks, “What does the black mean?”

She grinds her teeth and sits up quickly, straightening her silk black nightdress then reaching for her heart, which he hands her with no resistance.

She reaches for the little sack laying next to him that she’s been keeping it in - she hasn’t yet decided where to hide it - and says nothing.

He reaches for her, strokes his hand soothingly across her forearm and says, “You can tell me darling, I’m not judging, just trying to learn.”

 

Regina is not ashamed of her black heart. She knows the evil she has done, knows what the terrible, brutal outcome of her wrath against Snow White has been. She accepts it. But that doesn’t mean she wants to talk about it. It doesn’t mean she wants to have some ridiculous, sappy conversation about how she’s changed.

 

She straightens her back and levels him with an Evil Queen look she hopes will shut him up as she lowers the timber of her voice and says darkly, “The black is a reflection of all the evil acts I have committed.”

He nods, and much to her chagrin, he doesn’t look shocked, or even afraid. She scowls as she starts to stuff her heart into the sack.

“Why not -” he pauses for a second, reaches for her cheek and _keeps_ reaching for her even when she instinctively jerks away, until his hand is cupping her neck, his thumb stroking softly against the corner of her jaw, “Why not put it back in? Why hide it away when, now that your mother is dead, the safest place for it is back inside of you?”

She hesitates as she looks at him, feeling a little dumbstruck with the idea. He’s right - now that Cora is gone, there is no one else in this realm with the ability rip her heart out, so honestly, her chest really is the most appropriate, most well guarded place for it to be.

 

But she’s terrified of what it will feel like to have the full force of her emotions again. Petrified of how her grief will feel with her heart inside of her, aching for those she has lost.

 

He rubs her cheek softly and leans in to kiss her, and she calms against him, responding to the sweet slide of his lips against hers, opening her mouth and letting him slip his tongue in to sensually stroke against hers. He pulls back and presses another soft kiss to her lips, then drops his hand to rub across her thigh as he encourages, “You are so strong, Regina, just think how much stronger you would feel with your heart.”

She furrows her brow as she considers, staring hard at the mostly blackened muscle. “Why does it matter to you so much?” she asks quietly.

He purses his lips and says softly, “If I didn’t have my heart right now, wouldn’t you want me to have it, so that we would know whether or not this is... what you and I have is… real?”

Her affection for Robin floods through her, and she can’t tear her eyes from his as she nods, suddenly wanting to go there with him, wanting to know if what they have is more than casual, wanting to know if their feelings for each other are the same. She needs her heart to figure it out though, to _really_ understand it, because she can’t know for sure how she feels about Robin, until she knows if she’s finally ready to move on from Daniel. Only her heart can tell her that.

Before she can change her mind, before she can have second thoughts, Regina takes a deep breath, looks him square in the eyes, pulls her magic up to her fingertips, and with a small swirl of purple, she shoves her heart back into her chest.

The pain is terrible and she gasps loudly, trying to catch her breath as she releases the enchanted muscle and pulls her hand back out. Robin has his hands on both of her thighs, stroking lightly across the bare skin just below the hem of her gown, and she closes her eyes as the strange, sharp emotions flood through her. It takes her a minute, takes her a solid _ten_ minutes, to get herself under control and adjust to the feelings that are exaggeratedly raw after they have been dulled for so long. When she opens her eyes and he’s looking at her hopefully, she can’t help but kiss him, and _oh god_ does that feel good. Kissing him with her heart in her chest feels absolutely, insanely incredible, and _jesus_ she has seriously been missing out on _that_ this whole time.

 

She’d forgotten that while the grief, pain, and terror of her life had been muted without her heart, so had her happiness, excitement, and arousal.

 

Regina climbs into his lap, straddling him on her knees and threading her fingers through his short hair as she kisses him hard, full of excitement and pure _want_ , because _oh goddd_ she cannot wait to get him inside of her, cannot _wait_ for him to make her orgasm with her full set of emotions. _Fuck_ , it’s going to be _so good_.

He chuckles against her lips, and pulls her against him as he encourages her, sliding his hands up the back of her night dress to get them on her bare skin, grabbing for the exposed globes of her ass on either side of the little red thong she’s wearing, just for him.

She pulls back and works her mouth over his neck, sucks hot kisses against his throat and rubs herself wantonly against him because - _oh jesus_ \- he just feels so good.

He laughs again and gives her ass a light slap as he says softly, “There, darling, that’s a bit better than hiding it away in that little red box now, isn’t it?”

 

Lips against his neck, hands in his hair, and her already wet sex pressed up against his waist - Regina freezes.

 

 

_What._

 

 

_The._

 

 

_Fuck._

 

 

She pulls back, sliding her hands to each side of his neck, fingers pressing lightly against his pulse as she settles back on his thighs and asks him quietly - very, _very_ seriously, “How do you know the box is red?”

His pulse spikes beneath her fingertips and she wrenches away from him, scrambling backward on her hands and knees to the far side of the bed as he grabs for her, frantically calling out, “No! Wait! Regina!”

“How, Robin?” she says again, her voice sharp, rising in volume as she demands, “HOW?!”

He pauses, swallows thickly, and goes unnaturally still on his knees across from her, a flush rising from his chest up to his neck. Pure dread shudders down Regina's spine as bile rises in her throat.

“ _It was you_ ,” she says, disbelief evident in her suddenly quiet voice, “It was you???”

He gives her this torn, desperate look as he clenches his jaw, but she doesn't need him to confirm her accusation, it's written plainly across his face.

 

Regina replays the last several weeks, pulling each moment apart, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. She thinks back to the fight with Cora, to that moment when it looked like her mother was preparing to tear out her heart, and - oh, she is such a fool - because Cora _had_ intended to do just that. Her mother had no clue that Regina was missing her heart, truly had no idea why she kicked down her door and immediately started threatening her life.

 

The realization slams through her, rage and embarrassment vying for dominance as she loses control.

 

“You had it the WHOLE TIME?” she shouts, pushing herself back off the bed and onto her bare feet. “You had my heart THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME?!”

Her magic flares, and the large mirror behind her shatters brilliantly as she is cast in a radiant purple glow, pieces of glass flying about the room, cutting the backs of her shoulders, legs, and feet. She ignores it, ignores the pain and blood as she starts to panic, her heart hammering unnaturally fast against her sternum.

“For what purpose?!” she asks, fighting the murderous rage that is rising within, praying he has a good answer for her, that this is all a misunderstanding.

He's still on his knees in her bed, and he cringes as he confesses quietly, “I needed your help to get Roland back. I could never have defeated Cora on my own - you're the only person who stood a chance against her. I needed you to save my son.”

 

Regina feels incredibly stupid. So, so naive.

 

“How the hell did you break through the blood magic protecting my heart?” she snaps. He shouldn't have been able to - only a relative can break blood magic, and if it turns out he's related to her and he did the... _things_ he did with her, she's going to throw herself off the nearest balcony. He hesitates, and she starts to lose her temper as she growls, “You owe me that much, Thief. Tell me how you broke in!”

He starts talking fast, desperation in his voice as he stumbles over the words. “When Cora killed Marian I managed to hit her with one of my arrows. I needed your help, but didn't know how to get it, so I watched you, followed you, and when I saw that you did not keep your heart within you, I knew that was the best way to get your attention. When you left to visit the dragon, I took a chance and used the arrow to pierce the magic barrier - it was… sheer bloody luck that it worked.”

Regina feels foolish, stupid, and used. She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he runs his hand across his face in what looks like guilt.

He rises from his side of the bed, his hands up in surrender, eyes hot and serious on her as he says urgently, “I'm sorry, darling, truly, but I was desperate to save my son.”

 

“Wait - just wait a moment,” she says quickly, thinking hard, “Why did you steal the Enchanted Bow to begin with? Why would you even risk the wrath of my mother? You are many things, Thief, but a fool is not one of them. Surely you knew who she was - her evil reputation rivals my own.” Regina takes a moment to steady herself as a sudden, awful thought dawns on her. “What foe were you preparing to fight, Robin, what monster was so powerful that you required the devastation of such a rare weapon?”

He bites his lip and looks torn, looks like he might cry as he drops his eyes and says quietly, “ _Christ_ , Regina, don't make me say it.”

 

The blood drains from her face as he confirms her suspicion - betrayal, anger, and self-loathing slithering through her as she too, looks away.

 

 

Because _she_ is the foe. _She_ is the monster.

 

 

He's been planning to kill her this entire time.

 

 

Regina's eyes are hot, her temples throbbing as she breathes, _“Jesus.”_ She rubs her hands roughly over her face and tries to collect herself, her eyes blurry with frustrated tears as she asks, her voice breaking, “Why?”

“I -” he stops and restarts, “What does it matter now? I gave your heart back to you, I couldn't do it, I-”

“I command you to tell me why!” she breaks, her fury engulfing her as angry words spill from her lips. “Answer me!” Regina is panting, and her magic breaks from her control, a wave of invisible energy grabbing him by the throat, yanking him off his feet and slamming him roughly to his knees before her. She conjures a shortsword, steps up quickly and holds it to his throat. She's shaking, almost crying, as she rasps, “You will tell me right now, Thief, or I will skin you alive in front of your darling boy, I will show him what a conniving snake you are, and then I will have him drowned in the lake as penance for your treachery.”

The threat against Roland is a hollow one, for she could never harm that child. But her hurt, her complete humiliation has her threatening Robin as the Evil Queen, has her backhanding him violently enough to make his nose bleed, grabbing him by the hair with one hand and pressing the blade against him with the other, the sharp tip digging in so hard that she draws blood as she shouts, “ANSWER ME!”

“You murdered my cousin!” he snaps suddenly, “You ruined my family - ruined my _life_ when you took him from us. He was my best friend, he was all I had - and you ripped his heart out like he was nothing, threw him away like old rubbish!” His face is red with anger, his fists clenched.

She stares at him, recalls his story of the cousin he loved so dearly, the financial and emotional turmoil his family endured for years as a result of the boy's death. But she has murdered dozens upon dozens of peasants, has more hearts locked up in her vault than she knows what to do with, and he's right - they are all nameless, faceless, nobodies to her.

“So why not go through with it?” she challenges. “You held my life in your hands for weeks as you deceived me.” She tries to drop her voice, tries to sound like the menacing Queen but the words come out slightly high pitched, shakey - she can barely hold the sword to his throat as she trembles and falls apart from his betrayal. “You convinced me to kill my mother, to rescue your son, to spread my legs for you night after night,” she feels sick, has to swallow down the bile before she continues. “It's been weeks since we returned - why didn't you just get it over with and kill me when you had the chance?”

She's breathing hard, hating him, so ridiculously hurt, completely disappointed in herself for her foolishness as she awaits his answer.

Robin's expression is hopeless as he looks her right in the eye and says, “You bloody well _know_ why I couldn't do it. It's the same reason I'm still breathing, the same reason you haven't run me through. _Christ_ , Regina, I'm completely in-fucking-lo-.”

Her bedroom door suddenly flies open and Roland bounds in, stopping short and his eyes going wide at the scenario before him. Regina immediately releases Robin, the conjured sword still tight in her hand as she takes several steps back from the both of them. Robin quickly gets to his feet, wiping at the blood that's running from his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

“Roland,” Robin says with a forced calmness, frustrated tears brimming in his eyes as he stares at Regina. “Go to your room, my boy, and I'll come see you in a moment.”

 

Roland ignores his father, starts toward Regina instead, and Robin calls to him, but the little boy continues, getting closer and closer to Regina. He's almost within arms reach when Robin loses control, shouts, “Daniel Roland, I SAID OUT!”

The boy squeeks with fear and immediately runs from the room, the door slamming shut behind him as he goes.

 

Regina looks at the door for several seconds, then at Robin, whose eyes are wide with guilt and renewed fear.

 

A fresh shot of betrayal rushes through her, pulse pounding in her ears, breaths short, as she stares, and stares, and stares.

 

She has to take another step back, has to gasp for air as she finally connects the dots.

 

Robin's stories of his family slam through her, the individual pieces of information swirling through her mind and snapping into place like the pieces of a puzzle as the details fly before her eyes - Roland is named for Robin's cousin, for the young man who died - if her math is correct - ten years ago. The young man whose heart was ripped out in her presence, who meant so much to Robin that he was preparing to take on the Evil Queen in order to avenge his death.

 

 _Daniel_ Roland _._

 

She meets Robin's eyes suddenly, as if seeing him, truly seeing him for the first time, and she can't stop the tortured sob from escaping her as she finally understands why he has felt so familiar to her, why she feels calm and loved when he looks at her - finally notices that the blue of his eyes is an exact match to Daniel's.

 

The sword falls from her hand with a loud <CLANG> as it bounces against the stone floor, and a horrible cry of shock rips from Regina's chest.

 

“It can't be,” she says quickly - she can't breathe - “ _My_ Daniel?!” The words barely make it from between her lips as Robin rubs both his hands roughly against his eyes.

 

“Yes,” he says brokenly, “ _Fuck_.”

 

Regina feels as if she might faint. Like she might collapse where she stands. She can't feel her face, or her hands, or her legs anymore. It's like she's outside of her body looking in as everything falls apart.

He says her name quietly, drawing her attention back to him as he asks, his voice shaking, “Can you just, before you kill me, can you at least tell me why you did it?” He pauses, looking lost, looking as broken as she feels. “You were _everything_ to him - all he ever talked about, all he ever thought about.” Regina finally starts to cry, a sob wrenching from her lungs as he speaks. “You scream his name in your nightmares - it's been ten years, Regina, and you _cry_ , and _scream_ , and _beg_ for him in your dreams like you can't bear to go on without him. So call me a daft git, but I don't understand why, if you loved him so fucking much, _why_ the bloody hell would you kill him?”

Regina's anger flares up again, slamming her back down to earth and shoving her across the room to her armoire, where she rips the first drawer right out and sends it skittering across the floor at Robin.

He looks down at the small drawer, drops to one knee to sift through the contents, looking completely bewildered.

“Why did _I_ kill Daniel?” she rasps, her voice rough with emotion as she rips a simple gold band from her finger and shoves it at him. “ _I_ was trying to run away with him. _I_ was _in love_ with him. _I_ was going to _marry_ him.” She has to stop to catch her breath as hot tears slide down her face and drip to the floor as he stares at the scuffed ring - at her _engagement_ _ring_ \- the ring she has worn every single day for the past ten years, the ring that is engraved with both hers and Daniel's initials, and a date that Daniel never lived to see. He looks down at the drawer in front of him, the drawer that is filled to the brim with letters and trinkets and remembrances of the sweet stable boy whose only sin was to give Regina a chance at happiness.

She curls her lip as she looks from the drawer back to Robin, back to those familiar blue eyes she now recognizes so well, as she snarls, “My _mother_ is the one who ripped out Daniel's heart, the one who crushed it to ash before my eyes, who decided that that perfect, wonderful boy should give his life for the mistake of loving me.”

Robin's expression turns completely broken, and he shakes his head quickly, whispers, “Oh god… _What have I done?”_

“Since you successfully deceived me into killing my mother,” Regina pauses, tips her chin up and musters the last of her strength as she growls down at him, “It would seem that you got what you wanted, after all.”

 

 


	18. The Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - mildly dubious consent

 

 

Chapter Seventeen - The Anger 

 

  
There is a beat of silence, of complete stillness as they stare at one another, frozen in their revelations and the impact of their decisions.

Regina feels hot all over, flushed, her chest heaving as she tries to take deep breaths to calm herself. Robin is staring hard at her, still holding her engagement ring in one hand, and a stack of love letters from Daniel in the other.

He moves slowly, tucks the letters carefully back into the drawer, places her ring gently on top, and gets to his feet. When he finally speaks, his voice is focused, determined, as he says, “I know this is a fucking mess, I know I stole from you, and misled you, and used you to save Roland,” he says desperately. “I know you’re angry, and betrayed, and probably wanting to kill me right now, but jesus - can you just, before you write this all off, can you take a moment to just, _consider_ what we shared together?”

 

Regina wants to roll her eyes, wants to scream, or cry, or murder him. She is absolutely not ready to forgive.

 

But he continues on, unphased by the daggers she stares at him, at the fireball that keeps flaring, then snuffing, then flaring again in her palm. “I’ve cocked everything up, and I’m sorry, but that doesn't erase the fact that you and I, we’re _good_ together.” Regina scoffs, but he talks faster, more desperate by the second. “When we're together we talk for hours, we laugh, and play, and kiss, and fuck, and it all feels so bloody good, so amazing - ” Regina scowls, too upset to respond. “I know you feel it too - you don't have nightmares when I hold you, you love on my son like he's yours, you smile, and relax, and tease, and you let go for me like _I know_ you don’t do for anyone else. There is something - something extraordinary - here, tell me you’ve felt it too.”

 

She holds perfectly still. She’s so confused, so angry and betrayed, so hurt by his deceit and humiliated by her own foolishness. But she cannot refute his argument, cannot bring herself to lie about the things she has felt these last few weeks. Against her will, she feels herself nod, feels herself agree with him even though she wants to deny it.

 

Robin charges her, and it takes Regina by surprise - her disappointment and despair taking a firm hold of her reality and making her slow to react.

He doesn’t break his stride as he slams into her, the shock of his momentum pushing her hard against his chest as he lifts her, his arms an iron grip around her waist as he shoves them toward the far wall of the room. His mouth is on her neck, his lips hot and frantic against her as he sucks her smooth skin roughly, nips the corner of her jaw, and as they hit the wall he uses the corresponding jolt to slam his mouth to hers.

She’s kissing him back - she hates herself for it, but she’s doing it anyway, shoving her tongue in his mouth and biting his lips, her arms wrapped around his neck as he presses his entire body against hers, the hot skin of his bare chest burning against her through the thin silk of her nightdress. His grip is firm around her ribs, holding her up off the floor as he presses her hips into the wall with his, then brings his hands up to tangle in her hair. He pulls her head back, holding her in place as he moves to kiss her throat, drags his tongue against her collarbones then returns to her lips, pulling her down to him as he sucks hard on her bottom lip.

He kisses her deeply, stroking his tongue against hers, running it through her mouth aggressively as a sob escapes her, breaking the kiss, forcing her to pull back as the hurt rushes through her again.

“I hate you,” she rasps, so angry, so upset with the situation, so disappointed in herself for being weak for him.

He nips at her chin, sucks kisses along her jaw as he says quietly, “I know - I’m sorry - I know.”

She lets go of his neck, pushes against the wall and forces him to step back and set her down. The second her feet hit the floor, she shoves him hard.

He retreats another step with the force, but comes back immediately, reaching for her as she repeats, “ _I hate you_ ,” - pushes him again, harder - but it still doesn’t stop him. He absorbs the force, steps into her yet again and she raises her hand, slaps his face - the <SMACK> loud in the silence of her bedroom as her hand stings and tingles. He pauses for a second, wincing and squinting his left eye with the impact, but then he grits his teeth, and when he comes for her this time, she lets him.

His hands cup her face, and he walks her back again, but slowly this time, letting it be her choice as he looks down into her eyes. When she connects softly with the wall he brings his body in close, pressed against her as he strokes his thumbs across her cheeks and says, “I hated you too, hated you for so long. But I was blind… I was wrong… and the second I got to know you, I fell in love with you.” He brings his lips to hers before she can respond, before she can deny it, or argue, or slap him again, and her stupid lips are moving, her mouth opening against his and accepting his tongue as he strokes hers slow and smooth and sincere. Her hands are at his ribs, shaking against his warm, smooth skin, and she digs her nails in lightly, trying to get a grip on herself, on him, on everything.

Regina feels the wave of affection for him rush through her, feels her traitorous heart flutter under the words she had so recently hoped he’d say, and her emotions are too intense - she doesn’t know what to do or how to handle them.

 

And she’s still really, _really_ angry.

 

She’s not comfortable with love, isn’t familiar with it anymore, perhaps never really was. But anger? Anger she knows. Anger she likes. Anger she can deal with.

 

So that’s the emotion she goes with. She lets it encompass her, lets the fury swirl through her veins and her thumping heart, lets her vision go red with the awful, intense rage she feels for being so foolish and for wanting to forgive him and _remain_ foolish.

Before he messed everything up, she had been so excited to have her heart in her chest - had had two minutes of absolute bliss with her arousal spiking through the roof for him, anticipating the pleasure she was so certain he was going to give her. She decides that if this is the last time she will see him, because it most definitely _is_ , she’s going to get that pleasure, whether he likes it or not.

She digs her nails harshly into his sides, not caring that she feels his blood ooze under her nails, that he hisses against her mouth and flinches with the pain. She gets her mouth away from his, so she’s not tempted, not distracted, and she brings one hand up to wrap tightly around his throat as she growls, “On your knees, peasant.”

He searches her narrowed eyes but she gives him nothing as she squeezes his throat, her brows raised in challenge - making sure he remembers that she can kill him, _will_ kill him, the second he makes another wrong move. He sinks to his knees in front of her, looking concerned, looking - for the first time she’s ever seen him - uncertain.

 

Good.

 

She lets go of his throat and grabs a handful of his hair, jerks his head back as she looks down at him and snarls, “Make me come.”

He looks confused, so she pulls his hair harshly and snaps, “Do not make me tell you twice.”

Robin shifts toward her on his knees, tugging her panties off and obediently reaching for her right leg, stroking his large, warm hands up her calf - the cuts from the glass shards are sticky against his hands as he smooths them up to her knee and pulls her leg over his shoulder. She has no idea if she’s wet, can only feel the adrenaline of the anger coursing through her veins, and when he starts to suck hot, sweet kisses against her inner thigh, she tugs his head toward her center and snaps, “Stop wasting time.”

His hot breath hits the smooth skin of her mound, then his mouth is against her, sucking an open-mouthed kiss right above her clit, and moving down to pull her outer lips into his mouth - first one, then the other, tugging and smoothing his tongue against her, the heat of his mouth making her arch her hips toward him and tighten her fingers in his hair. He runs his tongue through her folds, and _oh_ \- she _is_ wet - _fuck_ she’s wet - and it’s obscene, that she can be so hurt, so angry with him, and still be ready for him to slide up inside of her.

He shifts over a little, moving the leg on his shoulder with him as he opens her more, and he sucks two fingers into his mouth before running them through her slick folds, then - _oh, oh god_ \- quickly up into her. This is going to be easy for him - her emotions are no longer dulled and are driving everything up quickly - she’s not used to the increased arousal and is already way more into this than she should be. Regina’s breaths are fast and harsh, fingers tight in his hair as he gives her a few smooth, slow strokes of his fingers, then angles his hand and starts that _come-hither_ motion within her. He hits that perfect spot almost immediately, and she jerks toward him, moaning, her excitement ratcheting up as he starts to flick his tongue over her clit.  She moves her hips against him, letting his mouth chase her as she works herself on his fingers, releases his hair to slide her hand to the back of his head. She tilts her pelvis up more, wanting him all over her, wanting him to touch every sensitive part of her sex simultaneously and make her come _right_ now.  

He sucks her clit and lets it slide from between his lips, then circles it with his tongue, and she’s panting, aching, angry and wanting to get off, so she pulls his head to her, holding him tightly against her, as she gasps, “Stop fucking around and get me off.” He moans in response, and it turns her on that she’s treating him poorly and he’s still getting off on it - she wonders how much fun they could have had taking turns dominating each other, wishes they had made it that far in their “relationship” to have found out.

 

But he ruined everything.

 

That thought has her working her hips harder on his hand, not wanting to think - just wanting that pleasure she knows he can give her, just wanting that spike of hot ecstasy to jump through her veins and make her ears ring, make her vision go black, when she finally gives in.

He sucks her clit hard and slides his lips over her, working his fingers tirelessly inside of her, tapping against just the right spot and getting her to gasp, then moan for him, forgetting herself for a moment as she strokes her fingers through his soft hair.

She’s hovering on the edge, has her head thrown back and her body clenched tight, tight - hips moving, clit hot and throbbing as he gives it short strokes with his tongue, but every time she’s about to tip over the edge, she remembers their argument, remembers his betrayal, and she loses it, has to start all over.

She groans in frustration, and when she _doesn't_ come for the third time, he pulls back to look up at her. “Just when I thought I couldn’t be more disappointed,” she huffs, opens her mouth to say more, but he stands suddenly, his fingers slipping out of her as he grabs her by the back of the neck and presses his wet lips to hers.

He tastes like her, his lips leave a salty tang against hers and she kisses him back, just wanting to get off now, driven solely by her body’s need for release. He pulls back, runs his hands up her sides to her breasts, starts squeezing and kneading her as he drops his lips to her ear and says softly, “If you keep trying to control everything, you’re never going to come.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, running her fingers across the perimeter of the waistband on his sleep pants, then sliding underneath to grab his muscular ass.

He nips her earlobe and drags it roughly between his teeth, rocks his hips against her, fully erect and pressing into her as he replies, “I know you’re angry, but whether you like it or not, I know your body, and I know how to make you come, even when _you_ don’t.”

“I said shut up,” she says again, scratching her nails up from his ass to his lower back.

“I know what this is, Regina,” he growls against her neck, pauses to suck hard - marking her skin with a deep purple bruise - then continues, “And if this is goodbye, you should at least get this last bit of pleasure - you should at least get that orgasm you wanted me to give you earlier.”

He licks up her throat, his hands working against her breasts, flicking across her nipples until they are stiff peaks, then tugging and twisting them as she pushes out a hot breath in aroused frustration.

He drops his voice an octave, ducks his head to suck her nipples right through her nightdress, the wet fabric clinging to her when he switches between them, and she shivers under his touch.

“You can come for me and still hate me,” he says dragging his teeth lightly over her silk-clad nipple, “You can hate me, and banish me, and kill me,” he pinches both nipples between his fingers, increases pressure, harder, harder, until her knees buckle a little with the pleasure, and he says against her lips, “You can do all that, and still let me fuck your tight, dripping cunt until you come, until you squeeze my cock and soak the sheets with your release.”

He lets go of her nipples and rubs them quickly, the extra sensitivity makes her sex pulse, makes her gasp and want to give in. He’s right, she knows he’s right about all of this, but she still feels like she needs to fight him.

“I hate you,” she breathes against his lips, her eyes wide open as he slaps at her breasts and glances down to watch them bounce.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and rubs his stiff cock against her belly. “But no one fucks you like I do, no one else can give you what I can.” She gives in a little, runs her hand across his covered bulge and cups him. He drops his hands and pulls the hem of her nightdress up, gets it over her head quickly and shucks his own pants, then takes hismself in hand and steps into her, spreads her thighs just enough to slide his cock between them, parallel with the floor, his shaft pressing against her slit as he slides himself in and out of the tight squeeze of her thighs. His hot, smooth skin drags across her clit, her outer lips, and she wants him inside of her, wants him to stop teasing and deliver on his promise. He leans into her, her nipples brush his chest as he kisses her lips lightly, then whispers in her ear, “I know how your cunt gushes when you come for me,” he pants, and a shiver runs down her spine, “And unless you say ‘No’ right now, I’m going to put you back in that bed, and I’m going to shove my cock in you - I’m going to penetrate every, single place on your body, and I’m going to make you come until you can’t take another thrust, until your release sprays from you and I have to fill you with my come as replenishment.”

Regina moans, drops her head back against the wall and pants, her sex aches for him, and she wants this, wants one more hard, incredibly satisfying fuck with him, because he has never _not_ delivered on a promise he’s made to her in bed. She wants to feel him move inside of her, wants his lips on her most sensitive parts, wants his come running down her thighs, wants just _one more_ time before she does what she _has_ to do, because he’s a manipulative, deceitful, thieving, bastard who _loves her_ and has ruined everything.

He slides out from between her thighs, lets it bump against her belly as he rubs his hands across her toned stomach, takes her hand and runs it over the length of him, stroking himself with her hand, and she shudders, wants him in her, wishes in spite of herself that this wasn’t the end. She can’t do this, she _cannot_ fall into bed with him right now because if she does, she’s likely to never get out - she’ll stay there with him forever so she doesn’t have to face the hurt and betrayal she’s feeling. And she’s pretty sure he knows that. So she pumps his hot, thick length, tightening her grip to give him more friction, then swirls her thumb across the head of him, takes a deep breath, then another, kisses his lips softly as she makes eye contact and whispers, “Goodbye, Robin.”

She flips her wrists and she has never detested the swirl of her signature purple smoke more than in this instant. He disappears in front of her, and she’s a bitch, she knows, because she drops him straight in the frigid Teigen River, the wide delta that divides the kingdoms of Misthaven and Sherwood.

A second later she teleports his possessions and his son from her castle as well, but she sets Roland safely on the Sherwood bank of the river. She cannot face the boy, cannot bear to say goodbye - so she doesn’t go with him, just sends the swirl of magic to take him away before she finally breaks, crawls into bed and replays her last moments with Robin, stares at the ceiling for hours, until the emotional exhaustion takes her, and she lets the tears fall.

 

 


	19. The Admission

 

 

Chapter Eighteen - The Admission 

 

 

It didn’t take long for “King” John to be thrown from power in Sherwood. Regina knew it wouldn’t. The man was always weaker than his war obsessed older brother, Richard, who spent almost his entire regency running from one war to the next, until he finally met his ‘glorious holy death’ in the Crusades. Only his formidable mother, Eleanor, could have pulled John to success, but she died shortly after learning the news that her prized firstborn had fallen, leaving her youngest son to make every mistake such an inexperienced monarch could possibly fall victim to.

A peasant uprising followed shortly thereafter, led by a few noble families who had always resisted John’s rule, and with most of the Sherwood Royal Army decimated in the Crusades, it apparently was a quick and easy victory. Regina’s spies told her rumors that a band of militiamen - rogues, thieves, and superior bowmen - aided in the coup, and she knew Robin had to be a part of it - he hated John and had mentioned his mistreatment of the citizens of Sherwood - mistreatment that rivaled even Regina’s worst brutality - on more than one occasion.

Sherwood has a new King now - Ruprecht, who comes from a long line of nobility and is regarded, somewhat ridiculously, as a champion of the people. The moniker makes Regina scoff, makes her wonder how long it will be before those same people realize their “Champion” is still a royal - one who will enforce and judge, will tax and take, as all royals must. The king’s coronation ceremony is this afternoon, and Regina is preparing to attend, as all royalty from across the realm are doing in order to prod for any sign of weakness in which they can take advantage. She wonders what Robin thinks of his new king.

 

It’s been six months since she sent him away, six months of absolutely no word from him, six months of no longer wearing Daniel’s engagement ring as a balm to her broken heart.

Because her heart doesn’t hurt, doesn’t yearn for Daniel now. It begs, stupidly, for her backstabbing Thief, and his little boy who broke through the hard shell of the Evil Queen and got her to smile, and encourage, and care for him in all the ways that his natural mother might.

She has thought long and hard about the things Robin told her, about the way he purposefully misled her, the way he used her to save his son, all the while plotting to kill her. She thinks about him and Daniel together as boys, tries to recall any memories of Daniel having mentioned him, but it has been too many years and she has to admit that she doesn't remember the lesser points of conversation anymore. She wonders if Robin ever would have told her he stole her heart, that she killed her mother over false accusations, had he not made that little slip. She wonders if it truly _was_ a slip - Robin is clever and careful, she wonders if he truly did fall for her and couldn't take the secrets any longer.

 

Regina wonders what Daniel might think of all this, wonders if he would encourage her to forgive, or to forget his cousin with the matching blue eyes, and the little boy who she learned to love so quickly.

 

It’s better this way, she knows - better that she stay away from them and keep her wits and sentiments under firm control. It’s better not to hope, not to want, because every time she lets herself do it, it always seems to end in heartbreak. So when she starts to feel weak, starts to miss them, she reminds herself that she is a queen - quite arguably the most powerful queen in the realm - she has a kingdom to run, a monarchy to maintain, and she does not have time to entertain the notions of romance and motherhood.

 

She opts to wear her signature black to the ceremony, and she selects one of her most regal gowns - beautiful silk with large bell sleeves that are thickly trimmed with thousands upon thousands of the purest white diamonds, offset by ultra rare bronze colored ones. The black underskirt is lace covered and elaborately embroidered with glittering onyx gemstones, peaking out between the diamond trimmed opening of her overskirt. The dress has a high, stiff, diamond collar that wraps regally up and around her, framing her beautiful face on both sides with immeasurable wealth, topped off with an equally elaborate and expensive diamond necklace. The neckline of the dress is low cut, and the point of the v-shaped necklace drapes alluringly into the dip of her cleavage. She softly pulls her thick dark hair back and twists it up off her neck, sweeping her long bangs to one side to hang loose and frame her face, then secures her crown - the palladium metal and glittering diamonds vibrant white against the black of her hair. She paints her lips a deep red, removes all rings except for her Queen’s ring, secures dangling earrings that match her necklace, and paints her nails a sparkling black. Finally, she conjures black velvet stiletto boots, and turns to check herself in the mirror one last time.

 

She is, in every essence of the word, the vision of the Queen.

 

Satisfied with the look, a combination of obscene wealth, powerful royalty, and immeasurable beauty, Regina flicks her wrists and, without further ado, she teleports to King Ruprecht’s castle.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Regina is very nearly late to the ceremony, accidentally got caught up in a rather interesting conversation with Arendelle’s Queen Elsa, a sorceress who channels ice where Regina channels fire. She’s an interesting woman, nearly opposite Regina’s looks in every way - her light blue dress, shimmering white fur cape, grey eyes, and platinum blonde hair look almost comical next to Regina’s darkness, but their temperaments are ironically similar, both chalk full of dry sarcasm that Regina always enjoys when she has the rare chance to speak with her. There is a sense of amicable truce between them - their kingdoms are far enough apart that they rarely compete for resources and trade, both have well-earned respect for their magical abilities, and, next to Maleficent - who could not attend, due to being in dragon form pursuing… “extracurricular activities” - Elsa is the closest thing Regina has to a friend.

 

She’s heading down the long, curved corridor toward the great hall with quick, purposeful strides, intent on getting her usual spot - across the aisle from King George, whom she hates and likes to stare daggers at to remind him of it - when someone comes barreling around the corner of a connecting hall and collides with her. She takes two hard steps back, flailing, and just barely catches herself, the person trying to help with a tight grip on her waist as she regains her footing and opens her mouth to curse the soul who so stupidly ruffled the Evil Queen.

And then she snaps her mouth shut.

 

It’s Robin.

 

They stare at each other in shock for a moment, her fingers wrapped tight around his biceps from their collision, his hands firm around her waist, and she takes a moment to drink him in. He looks completely different than she has ever seen him before.

He’s dressed in a beautiful gray doublet, embroidered with silver thread in an elaborate leaf pattern, long quilted velvet sleeves the color of deep taupe, the cuffs of his white undershirt peeking out at his wrists, and a heavy dark brown cloak with a fur cowl thrown over his right shoulder. His beard is trimmed short and neat, hair combed and brushed back, a little longer than the last time she saw him.

 

He looks… noble.

 

“Fucking _Christ_ you’re beautiful,” he says quickly, hands squeezing her waist as he looks her over.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps, confused and thoroughly annoyed by the surprise of him.

“I uh -” he pauses, “I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” he says quietly, his bright blue eyes finding her dark chocolate colored ones, and she pushes against his arms but he merely tightens his grip on her waist and gives her no space. “I -”

There are footsteps in the hallway and then a man’s voice calls, “Excuse me, Your Majesty, the ceremony is starting.”

She has no idea who the man is but she immediately starts to respond with, “Of course -” but stops short as Robin’s voice overlays with hers as he says, “Yes, thank you.”

Regina furrows her brow at him, she can speak for herself, thank you very much. She attempts to push him away again, slides her hands from his biceps to his forearms, and he winces - jerks his right arm quickly from her grasp.

 

Regina’s eyes go wide.

 

She moves fast, snatches his wrist and pulls his arm back to her. She uses magic to undo the buttons on his sleeve, slipping them open in less than a second and peeling his cuff back, gasping in shock when she sees it.

Robin has a brand new, freshly inked tattoo on his forearm - a black shield with a white lion on its hind legs - a perfect replication of the coat of arms of Sherwood. She stares at the tattoo, then locks eyes with Robin, and he looks upset - looks like he wants to say something more but then the servant speaks again, pleads, “Please, Your Majesty,” and he slowly pulls his hand from her grasp, his fingers brushing softly against hers as he backs away, then turns quickly and walks off with the servant.

She has to take a moment to gather herself, has to take deep gasping breaths to calm the shock that is pulsing through her shaking hands, rushing loudly in her ears and blurring her vision, because her Thief - her double-crossing, lying, filthy-talking, sex god of a Thief - is wearing the tattoo that every king of Sherwood takes on the day he ascends to the throne.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow she makes her way to the great hall and manages to stay quiet and reserved through the crowning of Sherwood’s new king, Ruprecht of Locksley. At the conclusion of the ceremony, she is even able to walk casually to the grand ballroom with the rest of the guests, where the celebration is set to continue with a plethora of fine food, drinks, music and dancing.

She has a drink - a _strong_ drink - with Elsa, lets enough of the important people make their way to her for polite - or in some cases, not so polite - conversation, and as soon as the formalities are complete, she bolts.

Regina doesn’t want to teleport too near the hall, the swirl of magic draws too much attention and she wants to slip out unnoticed, wants to get back to the safety of her own castle before she allows herself to admit that he’s made a complete fool of her once again. He’s been lying to her this entire time with his little made up name, and she vows that the words _Robin Hood_ will not cross her lips again for as long as she lives. She walks quickly down a corridor, turns left, then right, follows a large staircase up, up, seeking the cold, winter air and solitude to cast her magic, so when she stumbles upon the stairs for the western tower, she immediately ascends.

The top of the tower is empty, bowmen patrol the wall walks but no one is stationed here, and she takes a moment to catch her breath, to steady herself before she calls her magic up.

 

“Give me a moment to explain.”

Regina sighs, closes her eyes, places her hands against the cool stone wall in front of her and leans heavily on her palms.

This cannot be happening.

He cannot have followed her up here, cannot be attempting to worm his way out of this misdeed.

“No,” she says firmly, opening her eyes to stare out into the dark landscape, hoping he’ll go away.

“Jesus, Regina - stop being so bloody stubborn,” he snaps, and her temper flares immediately, she spins from the wall and straightens herself to her full height, glaring at him as he stares her down.

“That’s _Queen_ Regina to you, _Your Majesty,_ ” she snaps, flicks her eyes up to his golden crown and curls her lip.

“Robin is the name Daniel gave me when we were boys,” he says suddenly, and Daniel’s name is like a bucket of ice water being dropped over her. She immediately takes a step back and clenches her hands into fists.

“Stop it,” she says quickly, “I told you I don’t care to hear any more of your lies, _Ruprecht_.”

He ignores her, charges on as he says, “My father wanted to name me Robert, but my mother was from the west and wanted a more traditional name, so they settled on Ruprecht, but I have never gone by that name.”

When she doesn’t interrupt he takes a deep breath and continues, “When he was little, Daniel couldn’t say Ruprecht, could barely say Robert - so he called me _Robin._ It caught on and everyone who knows me calls me Robin - I have never in my life used my given name - until today.”

His story is stupid. And silly. And… believable. She clenches her jaw and looks away from him, her feelings still hurt, her trust in him still broken.

“Hood came from all the robbery - that part was done by the townsfolk,” he mutters.

 

A frigid breeze picks up and blows a bit of snow from the ramparts. Regina shivers with the cold as Robin takes a step toward her. “And your blatant omission about your noble bloodline?” she snaps, “I don’t recall you making that little detail known when you fed me those stories about your family.” She grits her teeth and says quietly, “You know, Daniel may have only been a stable boy, but at least he was an honest one.”

“I didn’t think it mattered to you,” he says as he runs his hand across his face, “And anyway, I thought you figured it out when you fought Cora - thought that, when you kept me around after, that you didn’t care - that my heritage wasn’t important to you.”

“When I fought my mother?” she snaps, so tired of being confused when it comes to this man, “What are you talking about?”

“We were in _my fucking manor!_ ” he yells suddenly, “You never questioned how I knew where everything was? How I knew how to pick the side door lock? How I knew _exactly_ where Roland and your mother were?” Realization washes through Regina, and she is once again embarrassed at how she allowed herself to be blinded by her emotions. She remembers the stone statues of the realm’s most famous archers in the hall where she fought Cora, suddenly recalls her mother’s comment about Roland’s noble blood, and the insult of the boy’s common-looking father. “If I’d known in the slightest that my lineage would matter someday, I would have told you, but _jesus_ , how could I have predicted that _this_ -” he waves his hands around, “was going to happen?”

 

He has a point, and she should concede, but instead she keeps her mouth shut tight.

 

A minute passes where neither of them says anything, and Regina’s fingers are getting cold, her skin raised in gooseflesh under the heavy, cold necklace that lays against her chest. Fat, heavy snowflakes start to fall around them, stark white against the dark night sky.

Robin’s expression suddenly changes from pleading to angry, and he raises his hands in defeat as he snaps, “You know what? You are _such_ a bloody hypocrite.”

That gets her attention, and her finely arched brows shoot skyward as she bites off, “Excuse me?!”

“You burned entire villages trying to bring the death of Snow White as penance for Daniel’s death. How is _anything_ I did worse than that? I was told for years that _you_ caused his death - that _you_ ripped his heart out. With that knowledge, I did _exactly_ what you would have done to avenge his death.”

 

She says nothing, because he’s right.

 

But he’s not done, he doesn’t even give her a chance to respond as he snaps, “And if you would cool your temper for _one fucking second_ , you might recall that I gave you your heart back _before_ I knew that you didn’t kill Daniel.”

 

She stops breathing.

 

He’s...

 

He’s _right_.

 

He did return her heart when he still thought she was Daniel’s murderer.

 

 _Twice_.

 

The first time, he returned it to her after defeating Cora, when he sent her to collect Roland. The second time, he handed it right to her as they were curled up in her bed together. She realizes that she is being unfair in this, that his points are valid, but it's so hard to admit.

When she says nothing, he scowls and carries on, “You know what, darling? I’m not even sorry - I have no regrets for any of the things I told you - or didn’t tell you - to get you to come along with me to save Roland. I don’t regret a single bloody thing, because I got to spend time with you, I got to know the woman you are under the mask of the Queen, I got to touch you, and hold you, and _love_ you as I have never loved another person in my entire life.” He’s breathing hard as he rants, his hands waving around frantically in front of him, then falling heavily to his sides as he says defeatedly, “And I don’t care how angry you are with me, I will never, _ever_ be sorry for the time we shared.”

He finally stops talking, runs his hand across his jaw as he stares hard at her, his eyes hot and red-rimmed with his emotions.

 

She takes two hard steps at him, tugs him to her roughly by the lapels of his tunic, and presses her lips to his. He kisses her back, his shock evident, hands landing lightly on her hips as she pulls back and says, her voice thick with emotion, “I’m not sorry either.”

 

Relief lights his face for a split second as he pulls her to him, kissing her just as desperately as she had kissed him, one hand wrapping behind her shoulder, the other around her waist to hold her close. She opens her mouth against his, sucking softly at his top lip and touching her tongue to his when he probes her mouth, then tilting her head to deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping her as he slides his warm fingers along her neck, pulling her to him again, and again, as he showers her with deep kisses that soothe her broken heart, and restore her wounded soul.

They finally part, breathless, but Regina stays wrapped up in his arms as she bumps his nose softly with hers, kisses him again, and cannot resist breathing in his pine scent.

He dips down to catch her eyes, his own serious as he says, “I know that I’m not Daniel, I know you may never love me the way you loved him, and I know that I’ve hurt you - I’ve deceived you and broken your trust - but if you’ll let me try, if you’ll give me a second chance, I promise that I will earn back your trust, I will spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to give you nothing but happiness.”

Regina lets her head tip forward so their foreheads are pressed together as she confesses, “I haven’t worn his ring since you left. It doesn’t feel right anymore, doesn't feel appropriate when I’m…” she takes a deep breath, pulls back so she can look into his beautiful eyes as she says, “- when I’m completely in love with you.”

 

He pulls her to him, kissing her deeply, perfectly, the snow falling softly around them as she finally lets go of her grief, finally puts her past behind her, and finally admits that the only man she cares to give her heart to, is the Thief who stole it in the first place.

 

 

 

The End.

 

 

 


	20. The Epilogue

 (all credit for this beautiful manip goes to the incredibly talented @starscythe)

 

 

Chapter Nineteen - The Epilogue 

 

 

Regina hasn’t had a nightmare in forever - she sleeps soundly, wrapped up in bed with Robin every night, often exhausted from whatever new activities he has dreamed up for them.

 

Tonight is no different.

 

She’s sweating, flushed, and breathing hard as she flops down on her back, laughing and throwing her hand across her eyes as she tries to calm down from the rush he’s just given her, then shrieking out as he grabs her by the ankles and pulls her quickly across the bed to wrap her legs around his waist.

“ _Fuck_ , babe,” he pants, licking his lips and sliding his hard cock through her wet, swollen folds. “Always so wet, always dripping in anticipation for me, aren’t you?”

She laughs a little more, agreeing with a breathy, “Yesss-” that turns into a moan as he slides his middle and ring fingers up into her, working her expertly as he curls his fingers and flexes them against her most sensitive spot.

He starts slow and languid, sliding the thumb of his other hand against her clit, circling around and around as he watches his fingers move, moaning as she grows more and more wet. She loves the way he looks at her, loves how he can’t help but stare when he does these filthy things, loves how he whispers obscenities like compliments, loves how he groans when her hips jerk against his hands.

 

Loves _him._

 

He leans forward over her and drops his head to pull her nipple between his lips, circling the tight bud with his tongue, then stroking across the tip. He pistons his fingers inside of her slowly as he works her sensitive peak, tonguing it roughly and suckling hard as she moans with the pleasure, her back arching and arousal jumping up by the second. She runs her fingers through his hair, scraping her fingernails lightly across his scalp as the low burn reignites in her sex, heat and sensitivity flooding through her as he works his fingers in her, as he _\- oh god -_ increases the speed and taps at her g-spot while rubbing vigorous strokes across her clit.

“Knees up, darling,” he rasps, as he pulls back from her breast, his fingers moving faster still as her hips start moving on their own. She unwraps her legs from his waist and obediently bends her knees as he rights himself, rubbing fast against her clit as she opens wider, her sex tipping up as she brings her knees toward her chest. “ _Christ_ that’s pretty,” he says, swirling the fingers inside of her, stretching her opening as he rubs rapidly on her clit. “Your slick little cunt is so pink, so swollen for me,” he continues, “Been thinking about you all day, almost had to leave the delegates meeting to fuck you,” he pants, “Wanted so badly to fill you up with all this come I’ve been saving for you.”

Regina throws her head back and gasps, her back arching as he works her sex vigorously, the idea of him leaving an important meeting and pulling her out of an equally important meeting, just so he can come inside of her, turns her on to an enormous extent.

“Do it,” she gasps, and he tears his gaze from her sex to look in her eyes as she clarifies, “Next time, do it - I always want it - _oh god_ \- always.”

He groans loudly and pulls his fingers from her sex, immediately replacing them with his thick cock. She moans for him and arches up, has never gotten used to the thickness of him, still loves to feel that stretch everytime he gets inside of her.

He puts his hands on the backs of her thighs, spreading her bent legs wide, stretching her sex tight around him as he thrusts, giving her hard, fast strokes right away, pushing down firmly on her legs and forcing her to take him deep. She reaches up and runs her fingers across his shoulders, down his arms and places her hands over his, holding his hands in place, encouraging him to hold her down as he slides in and out of her tight opening, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing in their bedroom with the hard slap of his skin against hers and the wet slide of him inside of her. “Harder,” she gasps, and he moans, increases the roughness of his thrusts as he pounds into her. “Oh god,” she says, “More - _ohhh, ohhh_ \- don’t stop!”

She’s close, so close, her need for him building, nipples hard and peaked as he rails into her, but she wants _more_ \- begs him for it, begs him to give her everything.

He pulls out suddenly, rolls her to her stomach and yanks her back, bending her over the bed as he pushes her right knee up on the mattress and slides back in, the new angle driving him right against the front wall of her tunnel as he switches to shallow, quick thrusts. Regina drops her face into the sheets, panting - _ahhh, ahhh, ahhh -_ with each push, shoving her hips back to him with her excitement. “That’s it - _Christ_ you’re so tight -” he breathes, fucking into her hard - _hard_ \- “Work that cock.” He brings his hand down and smacks her ass hard, making her jump and groan with the hot sting, and he slides his other hand around to pinch and play with her clit as he shoves in deep, goes completely still inside of her, and slaps her ass again. She jerks against him - moaning - rotating her hips and sliding herself along his length as he holds completely still inside of her and rubs quickly over her clit. He spanks her again, and she buries her face in the sheets, a throaty groan tearing from her lips as she feels her arousal seep from her, her clit hard and throbbing under his calloused fingers as he works her. His palm connects with her again, the sharp burn in her cheeks making her twitch, making her rock back quickly on him, and he says roughly, “That’s my girl -” then drops his fingers to slide through the cleft of her ass as he says, “Love the way you clench so hard on me when I slap these round cheeks, when I play with your arse and rub your perfect little clit with my cock buried deep.”

God he's hot, he's so fucking hot, and she wiggles her hips and starts to babble, _Oh-god-oh-please-get-me-off-oh-god_ , as he circles his fingers around and around her rear entrance, the fingers on her clit slowing to match the pace, his cock completely buried inside of her. “Fast or slow, my darling?” he asks quietly, and he must be close, because he almost always drags it out, makes her wait forever, makes her wait until she thinks she’s going to die with her burning arousal and hot anticipation - but tonight he’s letting her decide, and she’s not wasting this opportunity.

“Fast, _oh jesus,_ fuck me fast, Thief,” she commands, rocking her hips against him.

He leans forward over her and runs both hands over her reddened ass, strokes up her back, and presses hot, open mouth kisses across her shoulder blades. Regina shudders under his touch, the smooth, sweet caress feels so loving, so perfect against her, and she wants to see him, wants to touch him as she comes, so she tells him as much.

 

As they change position, she grabs his golden crown from the side table and settles it on her own head, the possessiveness of the action making him groan and stroke his hand softly against the apple of her cheek, down her neck, breasts, and thighs as she moves toward him on the bed. She pushes him back so he's propped up against the headboard as she straddles him, then sinks down slowly, moaning and arching her back as he slides in. He makes her so wet for him, there is never resistance - he has her in a near constant state of arousal, always ready for him, always ready to lift her skirt, or lower her pants, or drop down to her knees to pleasure him with her mouth. It’s been months and months of this, and she’s insatiable, cannot possibly get enough.

She gradually increases her movements over him until she’s riding him hard and fast, her hands wrapped tightly around the tops of his shoulders as she bounces with reckless abandon, gasping and moaning loudly with the slick, deep slide of his cock as he thrusts up into her. Robin’s hands grip her ass tightly as he pants words of love and devotion to her, says, _gorgeous,_ and _stunning_ , and _perfect_ as her arousal spirals up, up, up. She’s going to come - _ahh jesus_ \- she’s so close - he brings one hand around to thumb over her clit, quick-quick-quick - _oh god_ \- and he tells her, “That’s it, come for me, come for your King.”

Her desire spikes, her clit throbs and she pistons her hips on him hard-hard-hard as she throws her head back, arching sharply and digging her nails into the meat of his pecs. The hot pleasure shoots through her suddenly, and she’s coming hard, swiveling her hips and rocking herself against him, grinding, grinding, grinding, and rotating around and around, her inner muscles contracting sharply as she squeezes her eyes shut and shudders. His thumb presses and swirls against her sensitive clit and makes her pulse around him, drawing out her pleasure, making her gasp and shake against him as her slick fluid coats both her thighs and his. She slides her hands to stroke both sides of his neck, pulling his head to her chest to suck on her hot flushed skin, as she tilts back and continues to press down to work her hips against his.

She slows, finally, his thick length buried so deep in her, her clit over sensitive and nipples taught between his lips as he sucks each one softly and whispers praises to her, tells her how good she feels, how he loves her so _fucking_ much, how badly he wants to come inside of her. The rock and swivel of her hips slows, slows, then stops as she finally calms, and she kisses him deeply, sliding her tongue into his mouth in pure bliss, then sucking at his top lip before she tells him breathlessly, “I love you.”

He surges up and flips her down onto her back - his crown forgotten as it tumbles from her head, his cock still in her - then he thrusts fast and hard, one arm wrapped around her back to hold her tight to him as his other hand strokes across her forehead, brushing her dark hair back from her face as he kisses her softly, in sharp contrast to the hard, punctuated thrusts he’s rocking her body with. He’s amazing, so deep, and she’s so swollen from her recent climax and the way he’s worked her so hard tonight, she feels like she’s in heaven as she rotates her hips and thrusts up in counter rhythm, the muscles in her stomach flexing as she rolls her hips up to him and - _oh god, oh_ \- that hot, sharp pressure is building inside of her - _ohh ohh ohh_ \- she’s already spiraling up again - _so sensitive_ \- spreading her legs wide and helping him get deep as they chase their pleasure together.

“So close,” he whispers to her, kissing her and tangling his fingers in her hair as he slams into her.

She grabs his ass to pull him deep, rakes her nails up his back as she throws his earlier words back at him and commands, “Come for your Queen.”

He comes almost immediately, driving into her and filling her with his come as he buries his face in her neck and groans harshly, his hand sliding down to grasp her full breast, his muscular thighs flexing as he pushes into her over and over, her own arousal rocketing up with the feel of him spilling inside of her, deep and so hot. The molten, tingling pressure builds, builds, builds, within her - has her gasping - _oh god too much_ \- then contradicting herself - _don't stop don't stop don't stop -_ until suddenly the pleasure explodes within her, and she flies apart again. He pulls out suddenly and replaces his cock with his middle and ring fingers, drives them deep into her and works them _fast-fast-fast-fast_ as she thrusts her hips up uncontrollably and cries out, trembling beneath him as her orgasm soaks them with her slick release, his fingers moving frantically to her clit to make her drench them again, then _again_ \- _fuck, oh god fuck_ \- until she _has_ to push his hand away, it’s way too, too much. The spasms finally abate when his fingers still, and she presses her forehead to his shoulder as she shudders. She holds tightly to him, panting hard as she sucks in several deep breaths, a soft laugh bubbling up with her ecstasy and satisfaction, and he strokes her hair, kisses her neck softly and whispers all the things he loves about her, until she finally steadies beneath him.

He props himself up on his elbows above her, his love for her shining in his eyes as he threads both hands in her dark hair. He kisses her slowly, thoroughly, and she can’t stop the content smile from gracing her lips as she lays beneath him, where she is safe, and strong, and loved, like she has never been before.

 

 

Their marriage unites the kingdoms of Sherwood and Misthaven, bringing prosperity and power into the newly created mega-region under the strict rule of Queen Regina and King Ruprecht. Their army is unbeatable, buffed by the unprecedented skill of Robin’s militiamen and Regina’s magic, and they do not suffer threats from any kingdom, near or far. Peace flows throughout the land, and all is quiet under the watchful eye of the monarchy.

It's almost a shame that Cora did not live to see it, for their union brought exactly what the Miller’s daughter had always hoped for. Regina is without a doubt the most powerful queen in the realm, her dynasty ensured through Robin's son, who knows her only as the loving, devoted mother who strives for his happiness above all else. Robin and Regina finally heal from the loss of Daniel, dedicating the Royal Stables to the boy they both loved so much, their sorrows replaced by love, their hearts mended and beating strong in their chests, and together with Roland, they are the happy, healthy family that Regina always wished, but never dared to hope, for.

 

 

_Fin._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.  
> I was too excited to post this so I didn't ask my wonderful beta for help, so I own up to all the mistakes and will try to correct them when I notice them.


End file.
